


Yours to Keep

by nonsensicalbelle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Graphic Description, Hurt Steve Rogers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of Sarah Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Sweet Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, bucky doesn't like being kept away from steve, bucky must watch steve live nightmares, lots of lovely moments too, no spoilers for infin, steve being hurt is the nightmare, steve is in a lot of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-02 20:36:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14553027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensicalbelle/pseuds/nonsensicalbelle
Summary: When Bucky is woken up from being in the ice and demands to come along on the mission to rescue Vision with the Secret Avengers, Steve doesn't realise he's walking them into a trap. Held in a room and forced to relive his worst memories, envision his worst fears and answer questions he hasn't dared ask himself in an attempt to recreate Steve's serum, he's prepared to risk everything to let his team get their freedom back. However, when his darkest secrets and feelings start to overflow, it gets harder and harder for his friends to watch from behind the glass as Steve is pulled apart.





	Yours to Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Jordan Mackampa's - Yours to Keep. The line 'I'll write your name on the bottom of my shoes' just made me think about these boys.  
> Wrote this in a couple of days, I graduate soon and I need an outlet.  
> Let me know what you think of this, I'm out of practice.  
> Just an extra warning - mentions Steve trying to hurt himself and the slightest mention of suicide. A lot of violence and graphic descriptions so take care there.  
> Begins after civil war ends except I blatantly ignore Clint's farm family because I'm bitter. Lots of love for Shuri.  
> I do hope you like it tho x

“You’re what?” He stopped in the middle of the corridor.

“Waking him up, Captain.” T’Challa said again, patient as ever, waiting for him to catch up.  

They had been in hiding thanks to King T’Challa’s generosity for nearly four months. ‘In hiding’ was a generous term as it implied they were behaving like criminals. The reality was they were actively pursuing Hydra cells internationally, they were just attempting to keep their heads down in the process. They had been semi-successful with a few exceptions like the incident yesterday, an oversight but Steve had a bandage covering the bullet wound that was healing. Shuri said whatever was coating the bullet was slowing his healing rate but it would heal over soon. They were eluding capture for the time being.

Steve hadn’t seen Tony since that day. He’d learnt early to read his news on his phone rather than watch it as he was reminded with every channel change that Tony Stark was practically a live broadcast 24/7. It was hard to watch. He forced himself to every once in a while as some kind of penance – but it was hard. The title of Captain America was dead, tip-toed around by everyone in case it triggered more grief and pain – as if that were possible.

In the compound itself, King T’Challa was rarely actually around, which made sense given that not only did it protect their cover, but he also had more important things to attend to on a daily basis. It left Steve with Natasha, Wanda, Sam, occasionally Clint or Scott even. And Bucky. But he had almost instantly gone into cryogenic suspension – with assurance from Shuri that she could free him from his Soviet conditioning but it would take time. Until he felt he was not a danger to people around him, Bucky chose to go back under.

It clearly hadn’t been a matter up for debate and Steve, now finally getting his best friend back, refused to take any choices away from him. Steve was going to make damn sure Bucky had complete autonomy from here on out. Even if the choices he made meant watching the life crystallise in his friend’s eyes for an indeterminate amount of time. Even if he felt sick.

“Wait, so, you’ve figured it out, you can take Hydra out of his head?” He asked, keeping his tone as even as possible.

“It’s not that simple,” T’Challa shifted uncomfortably. “Shuri informs me to run these tests it is safest for Sergeant Barnes to be conscious or lucid and others not.”

Steve paused.

“So what does that mean? You’re going to wake him up to tell him nothing’s changed?” He tried very hard to keep the edge from his voice but had a feeling it didn’t work from the frown deepening on T’Challa’s face.

“Some progress has been made but from here on out it may be possible to move things along faster and more safely if we bring him out.” He smiled gently, almost apologetically and Steve felt like the world had flipped on its head. He should be overjoyed that Bucky was coming out of the ice but he had reservations that he wouldn’t voice to T’Challa, he’d barely admit them to himself.

“How long until you think he’ll be,” He made a broad gesture that covered a number of things. How long until he woke up. How long until he could talk. How long until he was free in his own mind completely again. How long until he forgave Steve for waking him up. For all of it. But that was a different question entirely.

“Shuri can have him ready for tests by tomorrow.”

“Can I see him?” He responds immediately and T’Challa’s features are unreadable.

“That will be up to the doctors and Sergeant Barnes.” He says and although he says it kindly the words are like a punch to the gut. The implication is clear. Bucky might not want to see him. He might not even remember him. He could have reverted back to his old conditioning – no one really knew until he was awake. He nodded tightly and offered a handshake to T’Challa, thanking him for his help.

\------------

Natasha found him stewing in the living space, staring at a pot of boiling water that had been bubbling for at least twenty minutes. She deftly raised herself onto the counter regarding him silently for a few moments before speaking.

“Looks delicious, Dad.”

Steve blinked back to himself and offered a small smile which resembled more a twitch. They both said nothing for a while. Eventually Steve turned the gas off, vaguely wondering how much energy he’d wasted, would have earned him a smack over the back of the head back before the war from…

“They’re waking him up.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Natasha notes, giving nothing away. “That’s a good thing, right?”

Steve almost let an automatic response leave his lips, an assurance that this was great news and everything was finally getting better, but. But this was Natasha. He looked at her and shrugged his shoulder. He was tired.

“Unless they get it wrong. Have to put him back under. He could forget anything. Everything.” He drew a deep sigh. “I don’t know. He’s going to wake up thinking he’s better. And then they have to tell him he’s not.” Natasha nodded, understanding.

“Or. He could actually get better.” She offered, eyes guarded, though.

“Is that optimism or Devil’s Advocate?” He countered and it was her turn to shrug. “I don’t want him to fight anymore. He deserves some peace and nothing has changed. We’re still here. They’re still looking for us. Tony is still –” He leaned heavily against the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose – he could feel a headache building.

“What are you going to say to him?” She asked and Steve released a puff of air, humourlessly.

“Assuming he wants to see me. Or even remembers me,” He mutters despairing.

“Steve.” Natasha admonishes him with a dark look. He raises his hands in defeat.

“I’m going to bed.”

“I’ll save you some leftovers,” Natasha smirks at the pot of now cooling water and he flips her off half-heartedly.

When he reaches his room he just stands there for a long moment. Between locating and destroying every Hydra base possible, finding anything, any shred of relevant information to help Bucky, masochistically reading articles describing his disgrace and revelling in guilt he felt for condemning his friends to this life of being hidden and isolated from the world, their worlds, Steve was exhausted. Constantly.

He slumped onto the bed heavily and hung his head in his hands. Bucky was waking up tomorrow. He hadn’t prepared himself for it to be this soon. In fact, he had dedicated a lot of his time to actively avoid visiting Bucky, dwelling on his guilt and pain like he died. Again.

He must have fallen asleep somewhere in this mess of thoughts because Sam burst into his room at a quarter to two in the morning telling him they had a situation. Steve electrified into action – this was just the sort of perfect distraction. An opportunity to get out of the compound, the only justifiable excuse was a mission.

They reached the conference room finding Natasha, T’Challa, and Wanda had a hand covering her mouth, a tear-stained face but her expression was grim and set. Steve couldn’t help but instantly resonate with her, feeling everything she appeared to be feeling.

“What’s going on?” He came over and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“They’ve got Vision.” Natasha said solemnly from where she was sat at the large table. She threw up some files, projecting them into the space. Vision’s face was among them and Wanda sucked in a breath.

“Who?” Steve asked, reading through the material quickly.

“How? The guy is basically invincible right?” Sam voices over his shoulder and he has a valid point.

The brief showed that Vision had been incapacitated when the remaining Avengers had investigated a report of Hydra activity. He was being held captive and, Steve’s throat constrict when he reads the word, experiment. Wanda is pacing slowly, eyes wide and distant.

“How did we get this information?” Steve pushed, trying to keep a mission focus despite this already being complicated.

“That report was sent anonymously and somehow made it through several layers of security into my personal accounts.” T’Challa spoke up, showing the documents he’d been sent.

“Tony.” Steve felt an odd flare of kinship with the man he’d battled months ago. Another surge of guilt flooded him as the image of Tony’s bloodied face replayed on the backs of his eyelids.

“A source of mine also confirmed that there are extreme energy signals similar to that of your friend being produced from that location.” The King continued. “I assume this has something to do with the powerful gem that powers him.” Wanda looks ready to say something but decides against it, waiting.

“Vision is one of the most powerful beings in the world, or universe, I’m not sure.” Steve’s gaze kept lingering on Wanda. “If this is Hydra and they’re trying to harness that power, the effect would be catastrophic.”

“So, what you’re saying is. We’re going to Johannesburg.” Sam summarised and Steve glanced over to him finding his face the picture of willingness.

“I know things were dicey but if Tony sent us that information then this is more important than our differences. That power can’t be used in the wrong hands I can’t let anymore people get hurt and tortured by Hydra.” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. “We’re going to break him out.”

“Good.” Natasha seemed satisfied, getting to her feet.

“Get ready, we’re going tomorrow evening. Nat get in contact with Clint and Scott, let them know the situation and see if they’re available.” Steve instructed and Natasha was already on her phone, leaving the room. “On second thoughts, maybe not Scott, he’s got Cassie,” He called after her.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Your Highness,” Steve started and T’Challa held up a hand, anticipating this.

“There’s no need, Captain. We must look past our differences and protect our friends. I am only sorry I cannot accompany you.” He smiles politely and Steve returns it.

“I appreciate the help.” He wishes he didn’t always feel so indebted to him but without T’Challa’s help things would be very different right now.

“Steve,” He turns and Wanda is looking at him very seriously. “Thank you.” She hesitates before surging forwards and hugging him tightly for a moment before letting go and walking past him and out of the conference room. Steve stares after her for a moment, worried.

“We’re gonna’ have to keep an eye on her on this one.” Sam notes and Steve nods in agreement.

“She’ll be alright.” He says anyway because he has faith in her. People can do surprising things to protect people they love. But they can also be reckless and unpredictable so Sam is right.

\-----------

Steve is getting ready for the mission, studying the terrain and the blueprints of the building and trying to ignore the nagging in his mind that he might be gone when Bucky woke up. Not that he was supposed to be in the room anyway. He was going to be sedated. His memories could be…

He tried to focus on checking equipment. They were being thorough, the location was heavily guarded and needed some heavy fire power. He could feel Natasha watching him and he tried to ignore it.

“You could always stay.”

Steve snaps around and narrows his eyes at her.

“No.” He goes back to strapping the bags in on the jet. He’s being unnecessarily thorough now but he can’t be tempted. He won’t even broach the conversation.

“Just a suggestion.” She offers and saunters away.

Steve’s hands still on the fourth knot and he curses under his breath. The timing couldn’t be worse but he wouldn’t postpone Bucky’s recovery just so he can sit and watch. He’d waited months and before that years and before that decades. What’s a couple more days? By the sounds of it, Bucky wasn’t going to notice the absence of his presence being so sedated. It didn’t make Steve feel any better, the mental image of Bucky confused and disoriented with no friendly face to talk him down and offer reassurance.

He shook it out of his head. He should give Bucky more credit. The progress he’d made before he went back under was major. He could handle this and he knew Shuri and T’Challa. He’d be just fine. Steve had a job to do.

The jet was packed and set, they’d been over their briefing several times and there was a charged air in the compound. Wanda was practically vibrating with anticipation to go and break Vision out and the others were scarcely less eager to free their friend. Steve wondered if Tony and the others would be there. He was unsure how that interaction would go.

“Steve,” Natasha nudged him but when he turned to her, her eyes were glued to the window.

He peered outside and saw in the distance, alarms were shining from the medical wing where Bucky was being held. Steve was running before he’d even registered what could have happened. Had something gone wrong? Had someone broken in? The closer he got to the medical wing the louder the alarms became, ringing in his ears and red lights flashed aggressively. However, there were no doctors running out, or armed guards streaming alongside him to neutralise a threat.

Bursting through the door he saw Shuri at a control panel with a few other doctors, she looked flustered but not scared. She turned when he entered and shouted over the alarm.

“He punched the control panel – triggered the alarm. He’s through there,” She gestured to a door to a supply closet and went back to trying to shut the alarm off. She was remarkably calm.

Steve waned to ask questions. Hell, he had enough questions to drown in but he couldn’t wait any longer. Bucky was awake, and it hadn’t agreed with him apparently. But if he was a danger to anyone surely Shuri would have called someone. Or the other doctors. But they looked unconcerned, just frustrated with the sizzling, shattered glass.

He crossed the long room, the noise deafening but still couldn’t help but tread lightly. He paused outside the door, glancing back he could see Natasha and Sam at the door, watching in case he needed help. In other words, in case they needed to drag Bucky off of him. The thought sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. He knocked gently on the door, unsure if Bucky would be able to hear it over the alarm.

If he did or didn’t – Steve got no reply and so cracked the door open and slid inside, closing it behind him which Natasha would probably say was a stupid idea. Bucky was against the opposite wall, hands covering his ears but he too only looked annoyed and not terrified or murderous. He was watching Steve, his face cautious and unreadable. Steve sent a silent prayer that Bucky would remember him. Please, let Bucky remember him.

The alarm shut off and Bucky’s hands dropped. They stared at each other. Bucky looked tired and dishevelled but he looked so _alive_ Steve couldn’t breathe.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was raspy.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve said quietly with a tiny smile. He knew better than to approach, Bucky had to acclimate.

“How long was I under?” He asked very carefully.

“Four months.”

“Four months.” Bucky repeated, neither happy nor unhappy. “Am I fixed?” The question made Steve want to wince.

“Shuri thinks she can help but you had to be conscious for some of the tests.” Steve side-steps and Bucky’s eyes darken.

“Tests,”

“All optional. They’re safe, no pain, no being strapped to anything. It’ll just be whatever you’re comfortable with and they’ll tell you everything they’re gonna’ do before they do it. You get to choose everything from now on, Buck.” Steve explained quickly, keeping eye contact so Bucky knew things were different now. There was a long pause before Bucky nodded, letting out a huge gust of air he must have been holding.

“You miss me?” He said with a little smile that was so reminiscent of 1930’s Bucky that Steve coughed out something between a laugh and a sob. He covered it and pulled himself together, his smile shaky.

“Been no fun without you, Buck.” He returned and Bucky quirked his lips.

There was another pause. It was dark enough that Steve caught the flash of Bucky’s eyes when they flickered to his side.

“You got shot?” He asked because of course. Of course, Bucky would ask that moments after being unfrozen to have brain recalibration. Of course he would notice in the way Steve was holding himself and the subtle bulge of bandages. Steve cleared his throat and nodded jerkily, a moment too late and to avoid catching Bucky’s expression at this he turned to the door.

“You good to come out?” He asked and Bucky hummed in approval. They winced against the light, re-emerging into the large room, Bucky’s empty cryo-tube taking up a huge space in the centre of the room.

“Good, you’ve not killed each other.” Natasha remarked from her spot leant against the wall and Steve shot her a look.

“Sorry about the,” Bucky gestured to Shuri’s smashed up panel but the princess waved him off, busy on a tablet.

“It’s not a problem, I was anticipating worse.” She laughed lightly.

“Weren’t you supposed to have armed guards in here when you woke him up?” Sam piped up and Steve needed to talk to him and Nat about their bedside manner as he caught Bucky tense next to him.

“That could have triggered something far worse.”

“Risky to do it at all.” Bucky murmured and Steve wanted to punch something.

Nat’s phone began beeping at her, she read the message quickly, pocketing her phone again and stepping off from the wall.

“Sam’s ready with Wanda. Time to go.” She said pointedly to Steve, pulling Sam with her out of the door.

“You going somewhere?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Sit down, I’m going to check all your vitals, make sure you’ve defrosted properly.” Shuri instructed and Bucky obediently sat on the edge of a hospital bed, steady gaze on Steve as Shuri clipped a few wires onto Bucky’s arm, quietly explaining what they were for.

“There’s a situation in Johannesburg. Vision is being held captive,” Steve watched his friend, debating how much to tell him. Something changed in Bucky’s face.

“And that’s why you woke me up.”

“No! No, Buck, we’d already planned this, the Vision situation just came up. We did not wake you up for any missions.” He said seriously. Bucky raised an eyebrow and Steve just shook his head. Bucky was so quiet these days, all training and Winter Soldier but his eyes were the same, expressive, like you could hear the thoughts buzzing away behind them.

“Okay.” And Steve’s shoulders dropped slightly in relief. “But I’m coming.”

“What?” Steve stared.

“Your vitals look good and brain activity seems stable.” Shuri says, sounding pleased, ignoring their conversation or at least being polite enough to pretend she wasn’t listening.

“Hydra, right?” Bucky tilted his head in a way that said _as if you could hide that from me_ and Steve’s insides churned.

“You’re not coming.” He said suddenly because what else was he supposed to say.

“She said my vitals are good.” Bucky countered, voice calm and a look on his face that said he was being totally reasonable.

“I wasn’t lying. We didn’t wake you up for that, Buck.”

“I didn’t say you were lying.” His eyes drop deliberately to Steve’s bullet wound and back up. A challenge.

The pair stared at each other, stubbornness seeping out of both.

“There’s no way. You have to stay here. You said yourself you think you’re a danger to people as you are.” Steve pulled from thin air, not sure why this debate was even taking place. He thought Bucky didn’t want to fight anymore.

“Do you think I’m dangerous?”

“No.” Steve blurted and then screwed up his face. “You _can_ be dangerous but you’re, it’s not, not that simple, Buck, you know that. You’re the one who didn’t want to fight anymore.” He said desperately.

“Thought I got to choose everything from now on.”

Steve blinked at his friend, thrown for a loop.

“Yeah. Yes. You do. But this, we can handle this.” Bucky was testing his arm, letting it whir to life. “I don’t want to put you anywhere near Hydra again, Buck.” He all but pleaded.

“Not your decision. I’ll get ready.” And with that he stalked out of the medical bay room.

Steve watched until he was out of sight and then still stared for a few moments. He turned back to Shuri who was already repairing some of the control panel.

“You’re just letting him leave, just like that?”

“You said we couldn’t use force,” She said indignantly like he was being ridiculous.

“No, you’re right, thank you. Just… I thought you’d start the tests right away.”

She packed up some equipment as she spoke, shutting off the remains of the control panel.

“We can’t rush it. If he’s choosing everything like you want – he’ll come when he comes. No point trying to force it.”

Steve felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. It was Natasha telling him to move his ass and another from Sam containing a lot of expletives as he’d clearly found out Bucky was joining them.

“What if he snaps on the mission?”

“Do you have faith in him?” She surprises him and he frowns.

“Of course.”

“There you go then.” And with that she’s gone too and Steve is left with the familiar feeling of a phantom headache building at the base of his skull.

\-------------

Steve didn’t have a chance to speak to Bucky again before they got on the jet, finding all of his team already on board. He was hyperaware of his friend’s presence and the whole team was watching the pair and pretending they weren’t. Except Natasha, who wasn’t bothering to hide her stares.

Sam beckoned Steve over to where he had the jet on autopilot.

“Not that I’m not thrilled, but what the fuck?” He hissed and Steve closed his eyes, knowing Bucky would be able to hear every word if he wanted to.

“He wanted to come.” Steve said simply and Sam glared at him.

“I’m sure he did.” Sam said slowly as though he were speaking to a child. “But didn’t you, as the team leader and best friend of the unstable assassin –”

“Sam,” Steve tried but Sam continued, ignoring him.

“Did you maybe consider that two minutes after he woke up wasn’t the ideal time for a mission?”

Steve sighed, eyes on the sky out in front of them.

“He’s part of the team, I believe he’s stable and… I won’t make any choices for him. He has to have that freedom, Sam.” He said earnestly and Sam rolled his eyes but looked deflated and Steve knew he’d let it lie, thankfully.

Leaving Sam in control of the jet, they had a few hours before they were due to rendezvous with Clint, who knows what he’d been up to prior to their call. He left that for Natasha to worry about, however well she may mask it. He only slightly hesitated before taking a seat next to Bucky who was sitting quietly, his metal fingers from the arm that T’Challa had equipped him with, delicately flipping a knife over and over. He looked quite serene.

“You can still stay in the jet,” Steve muttered, keeping his eyes forward. He ignored the urge to look, seeing Bucky turn to face him.

“You fancy telling me how you got yourself shot?” He says and Steve only turns out of surprise.

“How? It’s no mystery Buck, someone put a bullet in me.” He laughs but Bucky is glaring now.

“How did you allow that to happen?” He spits out quietly and Steve can see the undercurrent of anger. It confuses him.

“It’s not important, I got shot six out of seven days a week, this one just happened to have some toxic substance on the bullet,” He says thoughtlessly and Bucky’s knuckles are white on the hilt of the knife that looks far less serene now. He was staring at Steve with a look of distaste that Steve had to turn away from. He just got Bucky back but suddenly he wished for a moment to himself.

It became clear he wasn’t going to be dignified with a response. Bucky deftly tucked the knife back into his boot and stayed sat forward, body language very obviously closed off. Natasha raised an eyebrow from the other end of the jet but engaged Wanda in conversation to give them some kind of privacy. It didn’t feel like they were going on a mission at all.

“It’s not that bad, Buck.” Steve tried, feeling like a sixteen year old kid back in Brooklyn, scuffing his feet on the floor, cheeks red after a lecture Bucky had given him when he came home with a black eye, bloodied lip and cut up knuckles. A similar image may have crossed Bucky’s mind because he hung his head, releasing a dull sigh for a moment before responding.

“Never should have woken me up.”

Steve swallows, hard. The words are slicing into a wound that’s already too deep. Bucky glances over at his friend, his face neutral whilst Steve is sure his emotions are playing live action on his face. He looks back forward and Steve gets up, arms messy. He feels sick. He feels like his chest is waterlogged. Bucky’s just heaved him back to shore and left him. Just like last time. He has to catch his breath on his own. He sits by Sam in silence for the next three hours.

“Sure this is it?” Sam asks and Steve comes back to himself. It’s pitch black out the front window of the jet and Sam is speaking to Natasha. She looks irritated.

“Yeah, idiot got himself stranded.” She huffs and moves off to go and get Clint onto the aircraft.

Steve goes back to check on Wanda and finds her sat, fidgeting something terrible, leg bouncing distractedly, obviously unhappy they were wasting any time. He risked a glance up across the jet but Bucky’s eyes were on the ceiling, glazed and disinterested. A cold feeling sank through Steve’s stomach and he tore his eyes away and back to Wanda.

“How you holding up?” He asked and she just looked up at him.

“He has to be okay.” She said simply and Steve nodded. “I don’t know what I’ll do if,” She gulped the sentence away.

“I get it. Trust me, I get it.” He murmurs, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and resisting the urge to look back at the man across from them. “He’s strong, stronger than any of us and we know they need him alive. It’s gonna’ be okay.” And he believes his own words. Vision was too complex to pull apart in a couple of days – at least that’s what he’d convinced himself of.

“Hey, look who broke out the freezer!” Clint’s happy chuckle draws their attention and he’s sauntering over to Bucky to offer a handshake. Steve forgot they’d had an understanding before he went under.

He feels unreasonably jealous at the smile Bucky gives Clint, shaking his hand. His eyes stray to Steve and Steve quickly looks away and goes to tell Sam they are ready to move off.

“I tell him to take a vacation and he raids half a country for illegal arms-dealers.” Nat grumbles as she walks over.

“In my defence, it could be classed as shopping.” He calls from where he’s mid-conversation with Bucky and Natasha flips him off. Steve can’t help but watch the pair, locked in easy chat, no awkwardness, Bucky looks relaxed, he never seems to look like that with Steve anymore.

Natasha flicks his arm and he looks back to where she and Sam are staring at him with concern and something else.

“You losing your head there, Steve.” Natasha says discreetly and Steve clears his throat.

“I’m fine, just thinking of the best entry points,” He spins and Sam snorts.

“That’s very inappropriate,” He grins and Steve is lost.

“For the compound they’re holding Vision – it looks like it goes deeper underground than we know.” He sounds flustered to his own ears and Sam turns back to the controls, chuckling.

Natasha is watching him with a look that means she’s about to say something either very useful or very infuriating.

“Don’t spiral. You can deal with it later.”

He stares at her and she may as well be able to read his mind. It’s very infuriating.

“I’m pretty good at stalling for time to avoid facing my feelings. Buried myself in ice for 70 years because I couldn’t dance.” He mutters almost to himself. Natasha quirks an eyebrow.

“Thought I was the cryptic one.” She huffs a light laugh but leaves him alone. When Steve looks up, Clint is walking over to her and Bucky’s watching him intently. He nearly gulps under the gaze, hoping Bucky hadn’t heard their conversation or wasn’t reading into it if he did.

He makes sure Clint has been briefed and then feels like a coward for avoiding his friend. He sits back down next to Bucky, not broaching a conversation this time. Before he’d gone back under, he and Bucky had gotten to a good place, it wasn’t like before, it never would be, but they had been a team, they’d made jokes, felt like they were friends again. Now he felt like he didn’t know how to reach out, how to say something without putting his foot in his mouth. So he stayed silent.

They arrived and neither of them had said a word to each other. Steve was relieved to jump into action, distributing everyone’s gear, making sure coms were working and establishing contingencies and map marks to meet in case things went south.

“Alright, so Sam, Clint, you’re our eyes, this needs to be a stealth operation so keep it contained. Nat and Wanda, you’re going with them and entering through the ventilation. Me and Bucky are taking the East entrance which is the least heavily guarded, only three men.”

“Steve, we got it.” Sam assured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a smile and Steve nodded, reassured.

They scattered when the left the jet, there was a mass of forest to cross before they reached the compound. Despite his size, Steve was relatively good at being light-footed and sprinted nearly as quietly as Bucky through the woods. They reached the perimeter and dropped down and out of sight to wait for their signal to go ahead. They should have about four minutes before they saw a green light blink three times, two sharp and one long and they would have to move.

In the meantime they were lying in damp leaves, peering over the lip of a ditch, through the barbed wire fence, watching the compound in silence. Steve glanced over and saw Bucky, face set and determined and it was such a dark translation of a memory of a memory, diluted over time and ice and recalibration but Bucky might still have it.

“You remember the station in Nimes?” He whispers and Bucky frowns over at him and Steve isn’t sure if it’s because he’s talking or because he can’t remember.

“You nearly got shot because you slipped in the mud.” He said like the memory was returning even as he uttered the words.

“You were so pissed. We were in a ditch for four days. I was sure they were going to get us.” Steve mumbles, low enough that Bucky even must strain to hear him.

“Trenches even there.” He murmurs. He pauses before looking back over to Steve, his eyes softer. “You kept sneaking your water into my canteen when you thought I wasn’t looking.” Steve’s eyes widen in surprise.

“You knew about that?” He whispers and Bucky cracks a brief, fleeting grin before turning back to the building.

“Should know better than think you can hide anything from me, Stevie.”

Steve feels a lead weight in his stomach. From the nickname and because of course Bucky can’t know everything. From the worst secret to the tiny ones, the moments, the reckless things he’s done, the people he’s hurt. All of it. Bucky would never look at him the same.

The green light blinked at them at last. They kept low as they flew across the expanse of the compound’s grounds. Easily scaling the fence and sneaking up on the guards to take them out silently and they were quickly inside.

There was no hesitance now. Bucky was in full soldier headspace and it was hard to watch. He killed men before Steve had even spotted them. They were a good team, though. Steve caught a knife before it hit the back of Bucky’s neck and sent a muffled bullet into the man who sent it. Bucky sent him a brief grateful nod before he was off again and Steve missed the shield.

It seemed to be a series of long corridors, with sealed doors that were impossible to get open. Without explosives that is and they were trying to be stealthy. Finally, rounding a corner, Steve saw a set of double doors at the end of the hall which he gestured to Bucky who nodded. Vision’s energy signature was definitely coming from that room. They advanced on it quickly, alternating glances behind them.

The room was too dark to see anything as they crept inside so they split up, Steve moving off and out to the right and Bucky to the left. The room was cold, cold in the way that stone walls and floors always seemed to feel damp they were so cold. It was also huge, both wide and long, Steve had been walking a while and hadn’t come across any furniture, agent, or walls. He was moments away from risking coms when the floor began to shake and an awful grinding sound seemed to come from all around. He started to sprint to where he’d came in from, the door completely out of sight.

“Buck, Nat, what the hell’s going on?” He hissed into the coms, the deafening noise cover enough for coms use he justified.

“Don’t know.” Bucky’s voice was gravelly and distant and Steve wondered how far away he was.

“The floor plan is shifting. You guys in the main space, too?” Nat’s voice was clearer.

“How big is this place?” Clint’s voice was static filled.

“Wanda, Sam, you alright?” Steve asked, still running.

“I don’t like this.” Wanda said, low and ominous and Steve whole-heartedly agreed.

Steve finally reached where the door should be but found a wall blocking his path, it wasn’t stone, it felt like glass.

“What’s the plan, Steve?” Sam’s voice was disgruntled.

“We need to find Vision.” He mumbled but the lights suddenly flooded the space. Bright, fluorescent lights, almost aggressive in their reach.

It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust but when they did Steve quickly became alarmed. The room looked more like a warehouse it was so large and there was a giant, what looked like glass partition through the centre (thought Steve suspected it was stronger than glass). He could see Bucky, Nat, Sam, Wanda and Clint scattered on the other side of the partition.

“What the hell is this?” Sam sounded unsettled.

“I’m addressing the fugitive team led by the former Captain America.” A voice boomed over speaker high above them. The voice was American but unfamiliar.

“I’m addressing the douchebag in the ceiling who doesn’t like interior design!” Clint yelled back.

“Clint.” Steve silenced him. “We came here because we received intel you were holding our friend hostage. Am I right in assuming that’s not correct?” Steve said loudly, his voice echoed easily, he’s sure the others could hear him, even at this distance.

“Your friend _was_ here. I’m afraid we used his energy signals as something of a honey trap. Unfortunate but we were right in believing it would get you here.” The voice didn’t sound particularly intimidating. “We represent a branch of the U.S government exploring advanced warfare in preparation for further alien attacks.”

“Steve?” Nat said quietly and he nodded.

“I hope you don’t mind if we test our own _advanced warfare_ on your little window here.” He offers to the ceiling and gestures to the others they go ahead.

Bucky kicks them off, marching to the partition and sending a devastating punch to it, repeating when it has no affect. Clint, Natasha and Sam are firing all manners of explosives at it, trying different spots before concentrating their fire. Wanda is rushing energy at it, trying her best to do some damage. Steve joins Bucky’s spot, punching in tandem with his friend, their eyes locking as they feel the strength of the other through the glass, but nothing happens.

“I’m afraid we took great pains to make this room the perfect arena, to meet whatever needs we may have. Forgive me, I’ll bring us a little closer.” The voice stopped them and suddenly the ground was shaking again only this time they could see what was happening.

The panelled stone floor shifted, allowing walls to raise through it far closer on all sides except the partition, making the warehouse half in size, leaving them in far smaller rooms.

“There. That’s a little less extravagant.” The voice announced over the speakers.

“Yeah, super subtle.” Sam remarked and Clint laughed.

“What’s this about?” Steve asked, impatient.

Whatever was going on here was planned and was attached to the government who would happily have him executed and rid them of the pest that was the rogue avengers. Maybe they’d have one last try at getting them to sign the accords. This brought his thoughts to Tony. Surely he had nothing to do with this. Then again, Tony would probably see imprisonment a kindness if it stopped worse things happening to them. But this was the same Tony who Steve had nearly killed. Whose parents were killed by the Winter Soldier. Perhaps there was no kindness left in him to give.

“We are offering an ultimatum to you, Captain Rogers.”

“Former Captain.” He corrected tightly, uncomfortable.

“We are required to try and gain access to a mass enhancement serum, the kind which transformed you and Mr Barnes into the soldiers you are today.” He saw Bucky’s head snap to him and felt his heartbeat jolt at the mention of the serum. This was very bad. “We want to conduct a number of tests to try and recreate a similar serum to distribute to certain factions in the U.S army for extreme world-threatening attacks such as the attack on New York.”

“What?” Steve breathed. They wanted an army of super soldiers. He remembered Erskine’s warning about the effects of the serum. It wasn’t as simple as an injection. There had been countless failed test subjects and it didn’t just enhance your strength and reflexes it enhanced everything. The damage pumping it into camps full of soldiers could be unprecedented. And he was certain it wouldn’t be reserved solely for alien attacks but for whatever changing agenda the U.S government deemed fit.

“We understand you will have concerns but you took away the privilege of negotiation when you became criminals and fugitives. However, we can help ease your conscience. If you let us go ahead with tests we will not only let your friends live, will give them conditional immunity from all charges placed against them.” The voice offered and Steve couldn’t help but look up at this.

“Conditional immunity?” He repeated.

“Steve, no.” Bucky’s voice was clear and he looked over to his friend. He could get Bucky’s freedom. Freedom for all of them.

“There would be some supervision but they would be allowed to live their lives freely. All that would be required would be daily reports to a supervisor and the occasional meeting but apart from that.”

“And if I refuse?” Steve challenged because he ought to know all of his options here. The voice sighed, crackling over the speakers.

“That would unfortunately mean we would have detain you all. Ms. Romanoff, Mr Wilson and Mr Barton would most likely be put on trial for several counts of murder and Mr Barnes and Miss Maximoff would be subject to similar tests as yourself as other persons of interest in enhancement.”

A thick silence followed this. Steve looked over at his friends. He thought of Sam on death row and grit his teeth. Then the thought of Bucky back in a chair makes him clench his fists. He pauses.

“What tests?”

“Steve!” Bucky punches the glass again as Sam marches to the partition with the others, they are shouting in protest.

“Right, I can come through shortly to discuss this in person, unfortunately, to make sure your team understands the situation I have to do something regrettable. This will only last a few moments.” The voice actually sounded sorry.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam calls angrily.

“Steve?” Natasha calls out.

He’s fine one moment and the next he’s being sliced on the inside. A feeling of thousands of needles piercing his insides, flames and ice pouring through him. His heart dives into action and he cries out in choked off agony, staggering forwards and crumpling over. He claws at his side where his bullet wound is, the source of the pain. His teeth might break they are clenched so hard, his eyes are streaming and it hurts too much to bring in breath. He can vaguely register his team bellowing and punching at the glass again. His back is arched and he lets out a long stifled shout, blood in his mouth.

And then it’s gone.

And he’s coughing up blood and gasping in air, head spinning from the oxygen whiplash. Legs shaking slightly, he pulls himself up and leans against the partition, steadying himself before catching sight of his frantic team, trying to mask their horror. Natasha is the most successful. Wanda looks devastated, Bucky looks murderous.

“That is what will happen should anything happen to me or any of my staff during these tests. And be aware, that was a small sample of the toxin activated in Mr Rogers bloodstream as it has had over 24 hours to spread.”

“Great.” Steve breathed heavily. “I’m alright.” He reassures the others, it’s mainly for Wanda but he can’t help but see Bucky looks like the Soldier.

“Buck, it’s alright.” He tries and Bucky looks at him like he’s a moron. And he probably is. But if he gets hurt and his friends can live without constantly looking over their shoulders, there’s no choice for Steve here. Light supervision is honestly the best case scenario.

A panel in the wall on the other side of the glass opens, leaving a door shaped hole and a tall, medium build, ageing, white man in a suit walks in, very similar no doubt to many others watching them through screens and cameras. He looks unconcerned that he’s in a room of avengers as he approaches the glass. Bucky shifts his weight like he’s about to attack.

“Barnes. You saw what just happened. You kill him, they kill Steve and you’re next on the other side of the glass. Or Wanda.” Natasha snaps quickly and Bucky lowers his hands and just watches venomously as the man as he strides through the room. Clint’s hands are twitching to grab his bow.

“This all becomes very easy now you’ve decided to co-operate.” The man says, clasping his hands together when he reaches the glass. “Forgive me, my name is Francis Rothman and I’m co-ordinating this effort. I assume you’d like to understand more about the program?”

Steve frowns at the man and steps closer to the glass, not missing the shift in Rothman, minutely away from the glass. Bucky steps closer as well, shadowing the man and doing his best to make him very uncomfortable. Steve finds he feels better with Bucky closer, glass separation or not.

“We are going to run a series of tests, simulations drug trials, etc, on you to see how your mind and body react to stress stimuli, adrenaline will act as a catalyst for the serum to be easiest to extract and recreate. Your stress response will bring the serum to the surface as a defence mechanism, you see. It’s really rather fascinating.” Rothman explained, his bearing now clearly of a scientist, a revolver stuffed clumsily into his suit pocket reeked of armed inexperience but he had the upper hand here.

“That sounds an awful lot like torture.” Natasha pipes up and Rothman shakes his head slightly.

“We will talk Mr Rogers through every experiment and ensure –”

“Experiment,” Bucky repeats, furious.

“Sam!” Steve jerks, unable to help but Sam is quick to respond, dragging an unwilling Bucky away from Rothman. If he was really trying Bucky would have got past Sam but he wasn’t stupid, he knew he couldn’t touch him.

“Thank you, Mr Wilson.”

“Oh, no no, I didn’t do anything for you.” He remarks coldly and Bucky shrugs him off, seething but staying put for the time being.

“I realise I’m not in a position to negotiate but you should know using the serum on the army is a terrible idea. I was the only survivor to take the serum out of hundreds to test subjects and they knew a hell of a lot more about the serum than you do, going in blind.”

“Well,” Rothman adjusts his tie. “As you know, science and medicine have advanced some miles since then and we will monitor all potential –”

“You’re going to kill your own men. And the few that do survive, if any,” Steve stressed, getting angry now. “They’ll be pushed to the extremes of their nature – every instinct good _and_ bad will be stretched, it will backfire and I guarantee you innocent people will suffer.”

Rothman hesitates. “There is some question still hanging over the use of the serum. I can’t promise anything, but your co-operation in these tests could convince the board to allow your input on how it should be used.”

“It shouldn’t be.” He grits out and Rothman nods slowly but it clearly isn’t in agreement.

“I’m afraid it’s the only other carrot I can offer in these circumstances. The stick of course being the death and imprisonment of your friends. I’m sorry to be so indelicate but there’s no need to dance around the truth.” Rothman states and his smile looks like he’s trying to be kind.

Steve’s met a lot of Rothman’s before – he thinks he’s doing the right thing. He thinks he can keep the power in good hands or at least the hands he wants them in. Things don’t change.

“On the condition that they get the immunity and absolutely no tests be run on them, I’ll do it.” Steve submits.

Sam is pacing, Clint has an arm around Wanda, Natasha has her arms folded and is surveying the room, obviously calculating chances of escape and where the surveillance was. Bucky was so still he could have always been stood there. Steve was a little worried he might pounce on Rothman at any moment. No matter the uncomfortable situation, this deal could change their lives, a life hiding in T’Challa’s compound was not a real life and for his friends he wanted better. They deserved better.

“Excellent. We’ll begin first thing in the morning and I hope you don’t mind being confined in that room until we can sort some better sleeping arrangements for you.” He smiled like this was commonplace and Steve nodded like he wasn’t a prisoner. An operation this painstakingly planned, they could have easily sorted sleeping arrangements, this was a power play.

“What happens to my team?” He asks before Rothman can leave.

“Oh, they’ll have to stay for now.”

“You said they had their freedom.” Steve challenges and Natasha looks like she’s dancing on the line of diplomacy as much as Steve is.

“Conditional on the completion of your tests. As it is, we would feel better if they were under surveillance for now. However, they are free to explore the compound, only inside the building, I’m afraid.”

“May as well keep us behind the glass.” Sam scoffs and Steve swipes a hand over his face.

“But no tests on them.” He confirms, needing to be crystal clear, despite no guarantee Rothman would keep his word. Or no one would go ever his head. However, he couldn’t help but feel this was a long time in the making and they knew very well Steve would be forced into a corner, forced to co-operate with his friends in the crossfire.

“No, they are free to observe yours, however.” He adds as he walks away with a friendly wave, like he’d done them a favour. Maybe he had. Maybe Rothman was their best good cop. Steve didn’t want to see what bad cop they had waiting in the wings.

“Oh, your friends can stay in any number of the guest rooms we have, we always have spare ones made up for our staff that come and go.” Rothman says before disappearing back around the door which pointedly stays open.

“I’m surprised the door didn’t slide back up, or a giant ball start rolling at us. You hear me,” Clint yelled out the door. “This is some knock-off Indiana Jones shit!”

“Steve, what do you want us to do?” Nat asked carefully, very aware of the cameras.

“For now, play along.”

“Play along?” Sam repeats incredulously and Bucky is stepping closer with the rest of them, the illusion of privacy if they are close.

“We could make a deal – they’ll swap our places.” Bucky offers and Steve wants to smack his own head into the glass that his friend would come up with that as any kind of solution.

“Absolutely not.” He growls and Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, practically vibrating with restless energy. “Buck, there’s no scenario in which you end up on this side of the glass and I’m not dead.” He says bluntly, trying a different tact and Bucky glares something vicious but he knows Steve is right.

Steve has the pure serum, Bucky was injected with so many things even the Hydra scientists didn’t have names for it all. There were files upon files of documents with lists of chemicals and toxins that are just letters and numbers that had been pumped into Bucky’s bloodstream. They wanted the raw materials not tampered goods, it was clear.

“What if these tests go too far?” Wanda says and she looks scared and young and Steve wishes he’d never brought her with them. He should have gone alone.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t watch the tests,” He started and was met with an eruption of protest.

“Like hell.” Bucky snarled.

“Steve, you can’t be serious, we’re not letting you do this on your own.” Sam reasoned.

“Well, at least someone is going to keep Wanda company outside of this room because she’s not watching this.” He grits out because he knows better than to think these doctors want to take his blood pressure and he’s not making the kid watch more traumatic shit, she’d been through enough.

“Steve, I’m staying with you!” She objected, looking offended at the idea she’d leave.

“Guys!” He shot through the noise and breathed out harshly through his nose. “I know I don’t always act like it and maybe I don’t even deserve it but.. but I’m the leader of this team. And there’s no easy way out of this one. There is a way out that hopefully leaves me alive and gives you guys your lives back, _if_ we play this right.”

“Hopefully,” Bucky says, catching Steve’s attention. “Hopefully leaves you alive.” He repeats and he looks desperate and it’s overwhelming and they aren’t ready for this.

“You think they’ll kill you,” Wanda gasps out and unable to help it, she’s crying, quietly and with frustration at herself but it draws Clint to her again.

“No. They just want the serum – dying would actually cause them trouble, they’ll be actively trying to keep me alive.” He says seriously, holding Wanda’s eye until she nods.

“Sam, Clint, find Wanda somewhere to sleep, give us a minute please.” Natasha asks. They look ready to argue but something in her face must convince them as even Clint goes without argument.

“Don’t say anything interesting without us.” Clint throws over his shoulder sarcastically as they go to scope out the compound.

“What’s our plan?” She instantly turns back, face set and grim.

“They said Vision was here.” Steve started, thoughts buzzing. “It was definitely his energy signature so the other Avengers have probably been here too. It’s more than likely they’ll be back. If you guys can get to them when they get here – that could be our ticket out of here.”

“What if they’re behind it?” Natasha asks. The silence is uncomfortable. “Got to ask the question.” She adds and Steve quirks his lips humourlessly.

“We don’t have all the facts yet. We can only hope we have more people on our side of the fight. In the meantime, look for weak spots,” Steve catches himself a little, glancing up at the cameras. “Anything helpful – find it.” He offers, vague enough for Natasha to understand. She nods and turns away, quickly leaving just Bucky on the other side of the glass.

Bucky watches him silently, face dark. Steve doesn’t know what to say. He had so many chances earlier to reach out to his friend and now it was impossible and he’d missed maybe his last chance. Bucky seems to read his thoughts and turns away, marching to the door to follow the others.

“You were right.” Steve says quietly, half-hoping Bucky won’t hear him. But of course he does. He turns a little. “We shouldn’t have woken you up. Should have kept you safe.” He says sadly and Bucky makes a noise of anger before turning striding back to the glass and launching another huge punch into it, not even leaving a scratch but the sound of it reverberates loudly.

“We’re gonna’ get you out of this fucking box, okay?” He says roughly and Steve nods, quick and serious. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m not going anywhere.” He adds and his words don’t match his tone and Steve wants so badly to do something, anything.

“Buck, I’m really sorry.” He blurts out and Bucky looks tired. “Please don’t watch.” He asks quickly so it sting less.

“Sorry, pal.” His friend offers him a sad smile.

“Bucky –”

“Steve, there’s nothing you can say. I’m not leaving you on your own with these bastards.” He bites out and Steve knows were the tables turned he’d do the same thing. He nods awkwardly.

Bucky steps forward and leans against the glass, sinks down to the floor and gets comfortable.

“Time to sleep.”

For once, Steve doesn’t push it. The gesture has his heart in his throat and he sinks down too, as though the pair are back to back, how they’d sit on watch sometimes back before everything. They both sit there and pretend they’re going to get any sleep.

\---------------

“Stevie, up. They’re coming in.”

Steve blinks awake, surprised he managed to fall asleep and gets up to the sound of Bucky’s voice. He looks around at the room on his side of the glass and a door shaped hole opens up and doctors and scientists stream in, fetching tables and containers and equipment, sparse and it’s all placed and hooked up together on one side of the room.

“Captain Rogers,” A nervous looking woman approaches him with a small tangle of copper wire looking cables. He scowls at her but lets her attach them, ignoring the pain when they stab into either side of his skull, two on his chest under his shirt, his legs, his back and his wrists. They’re barely visible now, just tiny specks of metal slightly raised in his skin but he can feel his body healing around them.

When he turns, Steve is shocked at the view of the other side of the glass. It’s unrecognisable.

“When did they do this?” He asks Bucky who’s standing close to the glass.

“Early.” He grunts.

The floor is carpeted, there’s a desk covered in controls covering a sizeable chunk of the glass, there are chairs and sofas, he even spots a fridge filled with water bottles. It’s like some holiday version of an execution viewing room. His stomach churns.

In the room stands Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Sam and Wanda along with a mass of nameless white coats, bustling around, all clutching tablets and chattering away to each other. When Rothman strolls in they all bustle faster, action stations.

“Alright, if we could get Mr Rogers vitals up somewhere easy to read please.” He requests politely and suddenly on the cold stone wall behind Steve there’s a projection with his name, his heartbeat being steadily documented, his oxygen levels and other measurements he’s unsure of.

Bucky’s started pacing. The scientists are giving him a wide berth. Wise.

“If you’d like to sit down, we’ll be here for some time.” Rothman offers, gesturing to the many seats for Steve’s team but they resolutely stay standing, staring him down. Rothman shrugs. “Very well. We’ll begin with some basic preliminary tests before we really get going.”

Steve nods, feeling anxious and foolish as the other bodies start to drain from the room until he’s alone again and the wall door closes back up again. He hears Clint mutter something under his breath.

“When you’re ready Dr. Saltz please increase vascular pressure by fifteen per cent.”

“What the hell is that going to do?” Bucky pipes up but Steve waves him off.

There’s that agonising waiting before the metal clips seem to dig in some more. Steve rubs rings around his wrists. Slowly he begins to feel as though his arms are shrinking, or whatever is inside them is getting bigger and hasn’t got room to move like it should. His pulse is loud in his ears, his chest feels like it’s being weighted with cement.

“Okay, interesting. Forty per cent, please, Doctor.” Comes Rothman’s voice and Steve can see his friends watching, huddled together anxiously. They look like a family in a hospital waiting for bad news.

Steve feels the dig again in his skin and instantly his breath is like cotton wool. He’s sweating and his heart feels too slow and every thump _hurts_. He falls to his knees, hands on the cool ground. It continues and he can’t breathe and he can’t think and he falls onto his back, head thrown back desperately trying to find air, hands uselessly reaching.

“And cut it there, please.” Rothman sounds like he’s underwater but the air seems to turn back to normal and Steve is wheezing and his whole body is thrumming. His head aches and hums like an alarm and the light is too bright but he can breathe.

“That was preliminary?” Comes Sam’s voice and oh God, they can all see him.

“I’m afraid so, Mr Wilson.”

Steve rolls gently to his side and can see Wanda is distraught, she’s weeping but her wide eyes are glued onto Steve, her hands pressed to the glass.

“Take,” He coughs messily, clearing his airways before trying again. “Take her out, please.” He begs and Clint pulls her away from the glass, she fights for a moment but he smiles weakly at her and she goes, letting her head sink against Clint’s shoulder.

“Your body responds quite well to vascular stress, Mr Rogers,” Rothman notes absently, he’s typing as he speaks. Steve heaves himself to his feet and stumbles, leaning heavily against the glass and Bucky watches him completely, nothing takes his eyes away.

“Great. Good to know.” He winces at the pain in his chest that comes with breathing and slows it down, easing himself in. “What’s next?” He asks and Bucky scrunches up his face, turning away.

“Pina coladas,” Nat smiles at him, she’s keeping her cool. Sam doesn’t look so easy, he’s fidgeting and goes over to look at the doctor’s readings.

“Okay, onto air pressure. Please decrease the oxygen level to fifty per cent.” Rothman says, sliding on a pair of glasses.

Steve hears his own heartbeat pick up on the screen in anticipation. Memories of asthma attacks and fumbling for inhalers and blacking out spring up unhelpfully. Bucky comes back to the glass, leaning against it sideways, he’s calmer now and it helps. Steve slows his breathing. It’s honestly not so bad. It’s like a normal day pre-serum, rattling lungs but he’s okay. Bucky’s eyes are comforting and at least he’s not rolling around on the floor.

He’s jumped from planes and scaled dangerous heights too much, this is nothing.

“Wonderful. Down to zero now please.” Rothman instructs and Bucky’s jaw tenses. Steve decides it’s easier to watch Bucky rather than feel how his chest starts to panic.

Nat and Sam are still there and Sam is panicked but Natasha is keeping a poker face. She knows it helps. Steve braces his hands against the glass. His heart picks up, desperately trying to take oxygen that isn’t there to his brain.

“It only takes a few minutes for your vital internal organs to begin to take damage without oxygen.” Rothman informs him, smiling from the other side of the glass and Steve slides down, sitting and resting his head against the glass.

His eyes must be bloodshot. Natasha takes up the gauntlet and folds herself cross-legged in front of him, just the glass separating them. Her smile is tight but calm. He tries to focus on it. His head is so heavy and his chest _burns_. He makes the mistake of trying to suck in a deep breath and his survival instincts, as wrecked and dusty as his are, wake up and are trying to take hold of him. If he panics he’ll try to gulp in more air he’ll do more damage and black out.

He makes the physical effort to pull his eyes back up to Natasha, it takes some time.

“Seven minutes and he’s not lost consciousness.” A warbled voice says.

When he finally sees Natasha, his forehead pressed against the glass and his mouth hanging open, he sees her eyes are full of tears but her face is still calm. She’s very still. He can’t stop it when he falls. His head collides with the floor and sparks are shot through his vision. The lights are foggy and he can’t remember what’s happening. He can’t feel his hands or legs. Is he dying? Something hurts but he can’t locate it. Then he blacks out.

He wakes up and he’s on a small bed. Someone’s moved him. He tugs off the oxygen mask around his face and gulps in air indulgently. He absently notes that the room looks even smaller, the bed is on the side wall and looking through the glass Bucky stands when he sees his friend is awake. He rests a hand on the glass, tilting his body so the other bodies can’t see it.

“You alright?” He asks pointlessly. He probably feels guilty. Who is Steve kidding, Bucky probably wants to kill everyone in the compound and then throw himself off of a bridge. Steve nods, he tries to give his friend a smile but it’s a wilted thing. He’s exhausted. Bucky’s hair is dishevelled like he’s been pulling at it. Something about the image makes Steve settle.

“Very impressive, Mr Rogers.” Rothman’s voice is going to be a trigger for a headache, Steve can feel it. “However, I fear your base instincts are going to be difficult to access. Fight or flight are deep down. Adrenaline is going to be the key – we’re going to have to try some emotional stress trials now.”

“What does that mean?” Steve tries because this is only the beginning and he needs to be as alert as he can or this will never end.

“Could someone fetch Mr Vision please?”

“Vision? Vision is here?” Steve is confused and Bucky looks unsettled. Now he notices, Natasha, Clint, Wanda and Sam are all absent from the viewing room.

“He is now, to help us with our tests.”

“Why would he help?” He’s climbing to his feet and really it’s a testament to the serum that he can walk fair stably already when he couldn’t have been out for more than a few minutes.

“Again, it’s unfortunate that we have to place the right circumstances to gain co-operation from all parties involved but we have an… insurance policy in place.” He says evasively, tapping away on various screens.

If Vision was here does that mean Tony or Rhodey or anyone else knew what was going on? Were they here? Did they approve this? Did they care? He didn’t have time to ponder this much longer as Vision stepped into the viewing room.

“They are holding Miss Maximoff.” He said accusingly and Steve turned a furious glare onto Rothman.

“What? We had a deal!” He rages and Rothman shakes his head like the whole thing is a terrible misunderstanding.

“It’s regrettable but necessary. We have your team in with her, I can assure you no harm will come to her as long as everything moves smoothly.”

“So you’re holding them all somewhere?” Steve seethes.

“Why am I not with them?” Bucky says suspiciously and Rothman raises his eyebrows.

“We believe your presence will allow Mr Rogers to remain focused.” He explains and Bucky’s eyes meet Steve’s before Steve has a chance to hide the truth in his. His friend looks distressed, like he wants to say something but there’s never been a worse time.

“Whatever it is, let’s get on with it. The sooner it’s done, the sooner Wanda can get out, right?” Steve pushes and Vision glides through the glass partition and Steve is painfully jealous for a moment.

“I agree with the Captain, however, he hasn’t been briefed of what is about to happen?” Vision looks concerned and Steve smiles at him. He’d always liked Vision once he became part of the team.

Rothman exchanges a glance with another lab coat and shuffles around a little.

“The test will be more effective if the test subject is –”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky snaps and then looks surprised at himself.

“I get it. If I don’t know what’s going to happen the reaction is genuine.” Steve says, unimpressed but Rothman looks pleased, like Steve is his pupil. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Alright, Mr Vision, we’re going through the hippocampus and temporal lobe. We’ll begin with noncorporeal projected onto the wall and then bring it visual.” He says and Steve is too tired to decode it but Vision moves gracefully over to Steve. “We’ll start happy, shall we?” Rothman says, keeping his eyes deliberately down. Bucky looks edgy and Steve is more nervous about these tests than the physical ones truth be told.

Vision places a hand against Steve’s forehead and Steve flinches a little before he realises it’s a comforting gesture. He smiles at his friend, more like a grim line but he’s bracing himself.

“This will be painless.” Vision assures him and then Steve is thrown backwards.

\-----------

The rooms are gone and Steve is in a dance hall. He’s seen this before. The music is slow and muffled and there are couples dancing, full of joy. The room is so 1940 his head spins and he feels an old longing pang. Peggy’s here. She’s offering him her hand, dressed in a beautiful red gown, hair and lipstick perfect as ever and Steve’s heart aches terribly. He’s smiling though.

He reaches for her and she fades. The image melts and he’s in his first home. The one that’s fuzzy around the edges, memory filled in with imagination because he was too young to remember the details. His mother is darning a pair of socks on their battered sofa and telling him a story, she’s in her old nurse uniform, bags under her eyes but her eyes still sparkle.

He reaches for her and she fades. The image melts and he’s in his old Brooklyn apartment. There’s a bucket under a wet circle on the ceiling where it’s leaking. Bucky’s lying shirtless on the end of the bed, rifling through a leaflet advertising a Stark exhibition. He was chatting away, making Steve laugh as he sketched the lines of his friend on a dog-eared pad in his lap. It was so serene. Steve doesn’t reach for him. He spent years keeping himself from reaching for Bucky the urge to repress was second nature. But Bucky sits up and leans over, ruffles his hair. His smile is so young and relentless it’s hard to breathe.

He jolts back to the cold stone room and Vision is back on the other side of the glass, gaze apologetic. Bucky is gazing at him, eyes confused and sad. He’d seen it all on the wall. What must it have looked like? Could he see the love reflected in his younger self’s eyes? Steve couldn’t hold his gaze. He felt flushed and invaded. People were taking notes. His stomach churned.

“And the second woman was his deceased Mother Sarah Rogers?” One of the doctors said a little too loudly and Bucky grabbed them by the lapels and shoved them backwards, not hard at all, not for what he could have done but hard enough to send a message. They hushed rather quickly.

“Let’s try some corporeal ones now shall we?” Rothman nodded at Vision who didn’t move this time, closing his eyes and reaching out, his mind reaching Steve’s.

_Forgive me Captain. I would not do this if Miss Wanda were not in danger._

Vision’s voice in his head surprised him and Steve shook his head at the other man. Bucky was glancing between them, figuring out he was most likely missing an exchange here.

 _This may be alarming but these images are not real. They are projections of your memory mixed with your brain’s cognitive imagination but it’s also a controlled simulation._ Vision warned him and Steve nodded, trying to keep these words in mind.

Steve wasn’t thrown back this time but the stone room seemed to warble like air shimmers above a road on a burning hot day. When it faded, suddenly there was a large curving sofa in the room. Tony was lounged on it, as was Sam, Thor, Rhodey and Nat, they were chatting and laughing. Steve thought he remembered this day but it felt like a mix of a lot of days rolling into one joint happy feeling memory.

“Hey, Cap, end an argument for me,” Tony leaned over the back of the sofa, smiling wryly at him and Steve was so shocked he staggered back, his guilt and surprise overwhelming him and suddenly his friends were gone.

“What was that? Why did you bring him out?” Rothman remarks, annoyed.

“He looked distressed.” Vision said, unhappily.

“This is the happy memory,” Rothman snorts a little and Steve bristles. He’s having his head poked around in and is being judged for what he attaches to different memories.

“Memories are a matter of perspective. We are not Captain Rogers, no matter how much we invade his mind.” Vision says defiantly and Steve feels a swell of affection for him.

_You are not alone. Sergeant Barnes wishes you to know this. He feels it very important._

Steve’s eyes slide over to Bucky who looks at him in question and then in certainty. God, Steve wished Bucky was with him in the room. Still, having two friendly faces with him was helping.

“Alright, let’s move on.” Rothman sounds aggravated. “Let’s move onto fear. All corporeal this time, helps to have things in the space.” There’s something vindictive in his voice and Steve braces himself. His eyes meet Bucky’s again and Bucky pushes off from the glass, he’s ready for action as well, this one is likely to be messy.

 _Let’s get this over with please Vision._ Steve sends to his friend and Vision wastes no time.

A chair appears and Steve feels bile rise in his throat.

“No,” He murmurs and Bucky is watching and his gaze is so sharp.

Suddenly, Bucky’s form is in the chair, there are straps, he’s shackled, there’s something covering his face and something for him to chew down on and then he’s _screaming_. The chair is jerking and Bucky is thrashing in the tiny amount of wiggle room he has. He’s screaming and screaming and Steve is pulling at his hair, squeezing his eyes shut only to open them again because how can he not watch this when Bucky had to live it?

“Steve, stop!” Bucky’s voice cuts through from across the glass but it’s been shifted so Steve can’t see through it, now he can only see his reflection and tortured Bucky’s reflection.

It starts to get louder. Steve can hear the crackle of electricity, he can smell burning skin and hair, Bucky’s screams are unbearable and Steve is moaning low and pained. He can’t move, he can’t blink, he’s heaving in air.

“Please,” He breathes, tears stinging his eyes as he watches Bucky’s eyes roll and flail in their sockets. “Please!” He screams and the image vanishes and he sinks to his knees, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing the sight away but it’s there. Burned into his brain.

He hears the voices, he raises his head and the glass returns to transparency and Bucky has both hands pressed against the glass and he’s saying something but Steve can’t hear it. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears. Rothman is nodding and looks pleased. He’s gesturing to continue but Steve can’t hear, he’s not ready, he doesn’t want more.

As he blinks things start to appear on the ground. The first body is Pietro Maximoff and Steve is transfixed by the sight of it, bloody and lifeless. The next is his Mother’s and he winces and shuffles back but as he moves back he touches someone’s arm. He turns are sobs at the sight of Peggy, old and lined, her corpse too close. Erskine follows, he has a ghoulish smile lingering on his face. Steve can’t watch anymore, he covers his head with his hands, trying to breathe but he could smell death the way you could smell it under disinfectant in a morgue.

“Steve?” It’s his Mother’s voice and Steve bites his tongue, his eyes filling up at her voice. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” She asks and Steve risks a look up and she’s stood and her eyes are dull and dead and not focused on him and a sob wracks through Steve’s body as he squeezes his eyes shut again.

The room clears, he can sense it but he can’t lift his head just yet. He wants to dissolve. He hadn’t thought about his Mother in so long and hearing her voice, _her_ voice, was too much. He felt like his nerves were exposed and he was hyperaware of every thought and feeling.

“Stop, let him breathe!” It was Bucky and Steve coughed in a breath.

“Bucky?” He called, not daring to look up because it could be a trick.

“I’m here, Steve. You’re alright.” He calls back and Steve trusts that voice and glances up. It’s his Bucky. He’s on his knees in front of the glass so his eyeline will be the same as Steve’s. Steve shakes his head, slow at first and then faster, tears shocking him and he angrily wipes them away. Bucky looks devastated.

“Why don’t we try weakness?” It’s Rothman, he’s merciless. Vision looks the unhappiest Steve’s ever seen him.

“I would advise this be the last test before we allow Mr Rogers to recover.” He says in a stilted tone and Rothman eyes him uncomfortably but he nods and Steve feels a huge sense of relief wash over him.

He struggles to his feet, wondering what kind of man he was now. Captain America didn’t weep in a box, he supposed it was a good thing he dropped the shield when he did. He didn’t deserve it in the first place.

He felt it start. The whoosh of a foreign entity in his veins and mind. It was voices mainly.

“I love Captain America!” It was a young girl’s voice, he vaguely remembered the smile that went with it.

“You’re a good man, Steve.” And who was that? Was that Howard?

“You have no idea how to talk to a woman do you?” And there was Peggy.

“Stevie, I made your favourite, spaghetti.” Steve sighed wearily at his Mother’s voice. It was so hard.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you had ‘em on the ropes.” Bucky’s voice makes Steve step back and step back until he hits the wall, letting the cold stone ground him a little.

“Genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist.” He smirks at Tony’s tone.

“That’s my secret, Cap.” Bruce.

More began to overlap. Voices he knew, friends, from now and from then. They washed over each other and it was intense and cathartic. Steve let it fill him up. He loved these people. He’d let down these people. He’d saved these people. They’d saved him. He missed them. He’d fought them. His head rested back against the wall. His pulse was thrumming but it was a peaceful kind of chaos. It was kind and painful all at once.

He glances up and the glass is still transparent. Bucky is stood with his arms crossed. He’s somewhere else. His eyes are faraway and he’s so beautiful. He’s beyond description, Steve is awash with the voices that have made up his long, long life and Bucky is attached to them all, his the loudest and quietest at the same time. The voices dimmed and Steve sighed, unsure if it was relief or sorrow that he wouldn’t hear Peggy or his Mother or his friends who are long since out of reach.

Bucky came back too. His eyes looked glazed and Steve just wanted to touch him, make sure he was real and here and his and alive.

“That’s enough for the moment.” Rothman allowed and he and his team were finally leaving.

Steve slipped down to sitting, breathing slow and deliberate. It had been a while since he was really exhausted. He hadn’t expected to get so affected, it was difficult to look at Bucky now it was just them as Vision had disappeared at some point, no doubt to ensure Wanda’s release. Good. That helped.

“How you holding up?” Bucky’s real voice carried across at last and knowing it was real in this space made Steve’s chest tighten.

“Only the first day, Buck. This is nothing.” He chuckles softly. Bucky is probably frowning at him.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

Steve raises his head – he’s no coward, and meets his friend’s gaze which yes, is under a frown, but it’s softer than before.

“I’d really rather you didn’t watch.” Steve admits, embarrassment singeing his tone. How his view of Steve must have changed.

“You want me to go?” Bucky sounds unsure and Steve looks up and his friend looks hurt, only for a split-second but Steve would catch it from a mile away.

“No,” He gets to his feet and walks over, carefully. “No, Buck. Just, don’t want you to see me like,” He bites down the other thoughts because he knows the reception they would get.

The reality that Steve is a fraud, he’s not strong, he’s weak. All this time, it didn’t matter what they injected him with, he was still the skinny kid with a chip on his shoulder that was predicted to have about two winters left at max.

“I’ve seen far worse. So have you.” Bucky says darkly. It’s true. He nods.

“Just make sure Wanda doesn’t see this. And Clint and Sam as little as possible.” He feels ashamed but Bucky and Natasha can handle this, he knows they’ve experienced things similar or similarly awful. Sam and Clint would have to face a world view shift to watch their leader, the once great Captain America, fallen from grace, sobbing to the sounds of his dead Mother. He couldn’t stomach it.

Bucky nods solemnly. “You should give them more credit. Stronger than you think.” He says it kindly.

“Yeah, it’d be nice for them not to have to be strong all the time though, you know?” He raises his eyes and Bucky seems to come to an understanding.

He looks like he hadn’t considered that before which breaks Steve’s heart a little. The concept that you could not have to struggle through awful things but just be happy and not in danger for a while struck Bucky as surprising. Wasn’t that just a shit pill to swallow. Still, it made his focus better. If he got through this, Bucky got to be not strong for a while. He could try and just be Bucky – whoever that was now. It set some kind of resolve off in him and he straightened up, smiling a little.

“This is going to be okay.” He has no doubt in his voice. Bucky doesn’t bother hiding he’s unconvinced which deflates Steve a little but he hides it.

“ _This_ ,” Bucky gestures to the glass and the room and the cameras. “It’s bullshit. I wanna’,” He cuts himself off, eyes on his feet and clears his throat. Steve can’t decide if this is good because it’s so human and so uncalculated or if it’s bad because Bucky is not okay.

“They keep this up they’ll have the serum in a week.” He tries but it seems to have the opposite effect, Bucky’s head snaps up and he’s angry so quick, Steve forgets.

“They keep this up you’ll be dead in a week.” He snaps harshly.

Steve has nothing to say to that. Maybe it’s true but it pisses him off a little that Bucky is fixating on it. He would do better in here if his friend was behind him 100%, not ready for him to die. Maybe he was on his own in here then, he had to believe he wouldn’t die. But at least if it was him in this box the others weren’t. Bucky wasn’t.

“Rather me than –”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Rogers,” Bucky snarls, looking ready to punch the glass. “You’re fucking selfish, you know that?” He glowers and then storms out of the viewing room, leaving Steve alone and hollow.

The lights dim when he’s alone, signalling it’s time to sleep. The small bed creaks under his weight as he lies on it, trying to ignore the feeling that a bunch of scientists were watching him and making notes on his sleeping position and breathing pattern. Steve had good instincts, he knew when he was being watched, that particular instinct wasn’t helpful in getting to sleep tonight though.

_You’re fucking selfish, you know that?_

Steve had the words playing on a loop behind his eyes. Was it really so selfish to want to keep his friends safe? Yes, placing himself on the other side of the glass, he’d be distraught to watch one of his friends experience this but he liked to think he’d be supportive. He certainly wouldn’t be telling Bucky he was going to be dead by the end of the week.

But Bucky hadn’t been going for malicious. Steve knew from a lifetime of pressing Bucky’s buttons what it looked like when he hit out. That wasn’t this. Bucky was furious, he was anxious, he was maybe a little scared? God knows, Steve would be. He was only as calm as he was because at least on this side of the glass he had one hand on the wheel, to quote Natasha. She wouldn’t like that.

He fell into a restless sleep at some point. Dreams of the chair and his Mother’s nurse uniform torn and he couldn’t repair it. He woke up sharply when the lights blinked on loudly. Looking over, Bucky wasn’t there. His heart jolted at the realisation that his friend had given up. He said he wasn’t going anywhere.

Natasha smiled at him, a pained, tired smile. She really did look tired. Sam was next to her and they were both perched on the sofa, looking uncomfortable. Sam nodded at him and Steve returned it.

“Can we get Mr Barnes in here please?” Rothman sent one of his workers away before Steve could protest and he ground his teeth, frustrated.

Bucky marched in a minute later, eyes on the floor, frown deep set. He didn’t look like he’d gotten any sleep and he didn’t look at Steve at all which made his heartbeat pick up painfully. He heard it on the monitor and was embarrassed that he was so transparent.

“Perfect.” Rothman mumbles absently and Steve is mortified. Bucky still doesn’t look at him. “We don’t have Mr Vision until a little later so we’re going to have to start with some physical stress and pain response.” He sounds apologetic and Steve squares his shoulders. This was the same as any other fight.

The door wall slid open and a faceless walking bot came in, built like a large human but featureless. Without warning, as the door slides shut, a bolt of energy comes flying out from the bot and Steve just dodges it. It runs at him and Steve catches it by the throat, spins and sends it careening into the wall with a crash. Steve watches as if pulls out of the wall and quickly fixes any malfunctions and then runs again. This time Steve ducks and snatches up it’s right leg, hurling it up and straight down onto the stone floor, metal crunching audibly.

He steps away and it fixes itself again and gets up. Steve sighs. So, this is today, an endless, dull fight. Still, it could be worse. This goes on for some time, Steve starts to get a few scratches here and there but is mainly bored. He risks looking over to the gallery and Bucky is only watching the bot, not Steve which makes something twist in his stomach. Sam offers him a shrug and Natasha is still and silent.

“Let’s up the stakes here, shall we?” Rothman remarks, tapping away on his screens.

The bot gets larger, adding to itself and is much bigger than Steve and it wastes no time in sending out explosives that Steve has to dodge and hit back but they’re coming so fast his back and shoulders are getting burned. One particular blow sends him flying and he collides with the ground, turning quickly enough to throw back a grenade sent his way. The floor and walls must be reinforced with something because they are blackened but undamaged.

“And something new.” Rothman sounds perfectly at ease which pisses Steve off.

However, he doesn’t have time to focus on Rothman as the bot shifts and morphs and it’s Iron Man.

“No, no,” Steve murmurs accidentally.

Iron Man, completely suited and booted, marching towards him and Steve can’t get his head together. He can’t react as the metal suit grabs at his collar and lifts him a little.

“Don’t lie – you missed me.” Tony’s voice makes him blanche and he forces his way out of the hold.

He looks over at Rothman who is watching with intrigue, making notes. This is just another test. This isn’t real. His eyes flicker to Bucky who is finally looking at him but his face is guarded. Steve is getting no help there. Not that he’s sure what he wanted.

Iron Man starts firing at him and it’s too familiar, even the fight style is distinctly Tony. But they could manufacture that, right? Steve looks over to Natasha who has an air of alarm but she’s still and nods at him. It’s all they can do.

He gears himself up – it’s just a bot. He starts running – it’s just a bot. He slams a punch to the helmet which easily clatters away and there’s Tony – his face is battered and bruised and bloody, just like that day and Steve staggers away.

“Tony?” He gasps and he smiles messily.

“Don’t like my facial? It’s your handiwork, Cap. What? No happy reunion?” He’s talking and it’s just Tony. Steve can’t fight him, not again. He knows it was a bot and it changed and this is a test but he just _can’t_. That day haunted him and he wouldn’t add to those nightmares.

This time Tony surges forward, face murderous and Steve does nothing to avoid the blow, letting it land. He’s thrown back against the stone, his jaw connecting angrily and it throbs as he gets back to his feet and takes another. And another, Tony sends a blast at him and Steve groans as it burns.

“Steve!” Sam is on his feet at the glass. “That ain’t him, man! Fight!” He shouts, consequences be damned and Rothman looks sickly fascinated.

“Maybe I didn’t monologue enough, is that where I lost you?” Tony laughs a little and Steve focuses. It is a bot. Logically he knows it is and he knows they’re testing his emotional response. Detaching himself he sends a huge flying blow and sends Tony flying.

Before Tony lands he’s shifted and the form is smaller than the Iron Man suit. It sits up and it’s Bucky. Only it’s Bucky before the Soldier, before the ice and Hydra, it’s Bucky as a new soldier, maybe a little before. He looks shocked and stumbles to his feet.

“Stevie?” He asks and Steve is horrified, hypnotised. Bucky stumbles over to him, looking over his shoulder as if looking for the threat. “You okay?” He checks his friend over and Steve can’t move.

Bucky is checking him over and he looks unsurprised by Steve’s size which is a red flag but Steve can’t do this. He’s all wide-eyed and trying to be quiet because it’s not second nature yet. Back when he was a fresh sniper, Bucky would practice holding his breath to be extra quiet.

“Do we need to move?” Bucky is in front of him too close and too young. It feels wrong – Bucky’s asking him like he’s a kid and Steve is in charge which even as Captain America, he was never really in charge of Bucky.

“I, you’re not,” He steps away and turns and there’s Bucky over young Bucky’s shoulder. Older, rougher, his hair’s longer and of course the metal arm. He’s staring at his younger self and there’s fear in his eyes. His eyes slide to Steve and he shakes his head.

Young Bucky steps into his vision and puts a hand on the back of his neck, like they would before only it feels so different now. He tries to pry Bucky’s hand off but it won’t budge and his eyes have gone cold.

“You left me to die.”

Steve chokes on his horror. Bucky throws him across the room and is on him in an instant. He punches over and over and Steve feels his face go numb as blood pours from his mouth and nose. Crackles of pain are sent through with every punch. And then he’s hauled to his feet and he just catches sight of other Bucky on his feet at the glass eyes wide as young Bucky plunges a knife into Steve’s gut, once twice, a third time higher and then drops him.

He’s bleeding out on the floor but young Bucky morphs back into the bot and it leaves the room. Steve wants to cry. It’s an odd urge but he wants to just cry a little. He feels such a sense of loss seeing Bucky’s past melt and it’s forever lost to him. This is the cruellest test. He coughs up blood and spits it to the side. Bucky was right except for one thing. Steve would likely be dead before the end of the week.

“Perfect. Next is physical strain, are all devices ready?” Rothman is checking over the shoulders of all his colleagues. “Mr Rogers, you should brace yourself for some extreme discomfort. We’ll be as brief as possible.”

Steve actually laughs. A sad, shrivelled thing is it but it’s all he’s got. If Rothman was describing it as extreme discomfort, Steve’s sure it doesn’t matter if he braces himself for it or not. He rolls onto his side, not looking for his friends. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment or the pain, he’s too tired. Face throbbing, Steve suddenly wishes it was raining, pouring with cool fresh rain that smelt like Brooklyn.

“Could you stand for us please, Captain?”

Steve salutes with two fingers because he’s going to be sarcastic until he dies – which may in fact be soon so he needs to take his opportunities where he can. He stands, feeling more drained than in actual physical pain. That was about to change.

“Please activate sequence 12.” Rothman asks, like he’s asking for cash or card at a cashier in a supermarket.

Steve briefly wonders what was wrong with the first 11 sequences but then he’s forced up to the ceiling by something he’s not sure what – it feel like he has a magnet inside of him that’s being heaved to the ceiling, his insides shoving their way closer to his spine to try and escape. Then he’s hurtling to the ground, slamming down so hard he’s sure his wrist cracks and his vision is spotty. He groans as the opposite effect continues, his organs fighting to get closer to his ribs, a crowd of viscera, mannerless in their pursuit.

He grits his teeth, his whole body trying to concave and it’s seething, blinding pain with no source Steve can identify easily. It lets up for a moment and he gasps in air. Natasha has one hand on Bucky’s shoulder, she’s comforting him, Steve notes, dizzy and unclear. Her other hand is gripping Sam’s and they are stood close and silent, like they’re in prayer. The thought makes Steve splutter another laugh from where he’s boneless on the ground and Bucky’s frown has slipped into something more scared and desperate.

An invisible force hauls him to his feet and he comes very close to vomiting. The next part is harder to stomach.

“This is unfortunate.” Rothman is all furrowed brow and worrying at his lip and Steve wants to be back on the floor. “Run… 30.” The other scientists exchange a little look and Sam shifts in closer to Natasha.

Where he is stood, two hooks explode up through Steve’s feet and he roars in pain, sinking down, hands shaking and hovering around his ruined feet. Blood is pooling around his feet and his veins are on fire. He’s gasping out cries of pain. He has to pull his feet off of the hooks. He starts breathing deep and fast, puffing and gearing himself up and then he falls back and uses the momentum to rip his feet up and off the hooks with a stifled cry.

He drags himself with difficulty away as the spiked hooks sink back into the floor. A trail of blood follows him as he bites down cries of pain. He can feel his bones trying to heal, muscle and sinew fighting to form through such clean brutal wounds. Again he’s hauled up onto his wrecked feet and he groans, biting down on his tongue hard, willing his knees to buckle but it’s not allowed.

“And 4 please.” Rothman has watched all that with nonchalance. Steve is focusing hard on breathing and can’t look at his friends yet.

The next trial shoots a blinding pain into his skull. It’s like a white hot burning light thrust into his mind and ringing around, exploding and multiplying. His hands are clutching his head but he can’t even really feel it under his fingertips. It’s like his skull has gathered all of his body’s receptors and collected them all for the ultimate pain.

And then it increases and he screams, his feet aren’t touching the ground anymore and he can’t close his eyes. There’s blood streaming from his nose and his scream is a mangled thing. He wants to lose consciousness but the pain is demanding his attention. He can’t close his eyes. Bucky is punching the glass over and over and Natasha and Sam are fighting, Rothman is gone and Steve wants to fall so badly. Bucky is trying to get through – Steve needs him to get through.

He manages in a strangled yell and Bucky punches faster, over and over again and it thuds in Steve’s skull. His ears pop like he’s on a plane but the unbearable pressure in his skull just keeps mounting and it’s like he’s imploding.

And then a huge metal rod is thrust directly through Bucky’s chest and he stops punching.

“Bucky!” He screams and keeps screaming and fighting because no, please no, this can’t happen again. He wrestles the pain in his skull, tenses every muscle and bone and every piece of strength he has left, watching his friend sink into a bloody mess. Dying. Bucky’s dying.

With one final excruciating yell Steve plummets forwards, the pain stops and Steve sees the glass warble and shift and there is Bucky, alive and well and staring in horror, both hands pressed against the glass.

“Very good, Captain.” Rothman’s impressed voice.

Steve crumples to his knees, his body and mind spent, silent sobs wrack through him but he hasn’t the energy to see them through. Blessedly, finally, he blacks out.

\-----------

He blinks into half-consciousness and his head is resting on someone’s legs. His body is pillowed on the bed and by some miracle he’s without pain, he suspects they’ve given him something because his feet aren’t aching at all. He squints up in the dark and it’s Bucky, he runs a hand through Steve’s hair, quick and unassuming.

Steve falls back to sleep.

\------------

“We’re going to access the lateral part of his brain to see how he responds to forced compliance in questioning.” It’s Rothman, but Steve is tired and doesn’t want to stand yet.

“This is Captain America – he’s the poster boy for honesty, you don’t need to mess around in his head.” Sam snaps back and Steve relaxes a little knowing he’s there. He sits up.

“Ah, perfect timing, Captain Rogers.” Steve doesn’t bother reacting, just stares. “We’re going to proceed with a questioning trial but seeing as your body would most likely burn off any toxin designed to lower your cognitive functions we’re going to have to use Mr Vision again today.” He explains and it looks like he’s ticking things off of a list as he speaks.

“Is that necessary?” Bucky asks and he looks less stressed today – probably because this trial didn’t involve Steve getting the crap kicked out of him. Plus, if Steve had to have anyone poke around in his brain, he trusted Vision.

“Even Captain America has secrets.” Rothman chuckles lightly and Steve hadn’t been worried but couldn’t help wondering what they would be asking. They already had the Secret Avengers and any other classified information Steve knew was nothing they wouldn’t know themselves about ongoing Hydra cells. “Let’s get started.”

They got Steve to sit down close to the glass on a chair which Bucky had demanded have the straps taken off and surprisingly Rothman complied. Bucky seemed to have some power in what happened to Steve, maybe because despite everything, they still saw him as a loose cannon that they shouldn’t provoke by openly torturing his closest friend. Vision very carefully shifted something in Steve’s mind – though he felt the same afterwards. After Vision left, Rothman pulled up his own chair.

“Alright, let’s begin.” Rothman is sat opposite on the other side of the glass, a tablet balanced on his lap and glasses perched on his stubby nose. “Is your name Steve Rogers.”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He blurts out and, oh. Okay, this should be fun.

“Excellent. Have you been conducting missions whilst being a fugitive?”

“Yes. As many as I can.” His tongue betrays and his eyes widen sharply with the unnecessary tag on. Rothman quirks an eyebrow.

“Why as many as you can?” He chases because the bastard is a fucking bloodhound apparently and Steve is anxious.

“Because,” He tries to bite down on his tongue but the pressure in his throat builds like he’s going to vomit until words spill out. “I hate the compound.”

“You hate the compound?” Sam echoes, confused. It’s only then Steve sees Sam, Bucky, Nat and Clint all sat on a sofa, watching them. He feels vaguely ill. They all look confused and have every right to be – T’Challa had left them wanting for nothing.

“I hate how I feel in the compound.” He says because he can’t help himself and Rothman holds up a hand to Sam.

“Please, he’ll get off track – we’ll come back to that.” Rothman is scrolling and Steve sees Bucky watching him curiously.

“What is your relationship with Tony Stark?” He asks and Steve goes rigid.

“I miss him. I ruined everything. He’s my friend and he hates me.” News to his own ears, he’d tried his damned best not to think about Tony much either.

“What was your relationship with the late Peggy Carter?”

“She,” Steve wants to spit venom at this acidic man but he can’t. “I was in love with her.” He keeps his eyes strictly forward this time.

Rothman nods, typing on his tablet. “Love of your life.” He comments distractedly.

“No.” Steve blurts out before he even registers what Rothman had said.

“No?” He looks up and maybe Steve imagines the glint in his eyes. He’s so fucked.

“I loved her.” And he blessedly says no more. He’s praying to his own brain to do him a favour and be cryptic and brief. Like Natasha, always.

Rothman looks like he might chase it up but then sighs and scrolls some more and Steve breathes out.

“Why is it you hate the compound?” Rothman returns and, ah, Steve’s not off the hook yet. The irony of that thought with the phantom ache in his feet startles a laugh out of him.

“It’s empty.” He could fist-pump he’s so pleased with his own brain’s side-stepping.

“Completely empty? There’s no people?”

“There are lots of people.”

“Then help me understand, Captain. How exactly is the compound empty to you?” Rothman prods and Steve sighs, knowing what’s coming.

“Bucky’s not there.” He says simply and can feel his friend’s gaze on him.

“Mr Barnes?” Rothman leans back to gesture at Bucky and Steve bristles at the condescension, keeping his glare carefully regulated on Rothman.

“Yes. Mr Barnes.”

“I was led to believe Mr Barnes was being kept cryogenically – is that what you mean, when you say he wasn’t there? That he was unconscious?”

“Yes.” Surely, they must be wrapping this up soon.

“And why does Mr Barnes’ absence make you hate the compound?” And maybe Steve might surge forward and punch the glass just to scare this guy.

“Everything’s worse without Buck.” He hears the sincerity in his own voice and he wants to sleep. This isn’t fair. This is cruel. Everything he feels about Bucky is locked up in a special dark corner of his brain – most likely the corner Vision had just zapped against his will. It made him breathe uncomfortably and Steve recognised the starting signs of panic.

“He’s very important to you?”

“He’s everything to me.” And because he’s not a fucking coward he looks at Bucky who, God bless him, holds his gaze.

“Do you think he holds you in the same esteem?” Rothman is watching Bucky now and Steve is angry. That’s not how this is supposed to work. Steve’s the one behind the glass, Bucky’s supposed to be safe from this shit. But he can’t help it.

“I think I’m his closest friend but I’m not enough to make him stay out of the ice.” Steve confesses and his stomach drops. Bucky’s eyes turn cold and sad and Steve can’t say anything. Doesn’t know what he should say.

“Okay, tell me Mr Rogers, have you ever suffered from any PTSD?”

“Hey!” Bucky growls but Sam places a hand on his shoulder. If they didn’t do this the easy way it would get a lot worse. It’s not like Steve had a choice anyway as the words fell from his lips.

“Yes. Even before I went into the ice. I can’t sleep. I hate fireworks. The smell of smoke, sirens, trains, anything can set me off.” He gulps hard, he’d never admitted anything like that aloud. Half-truths to Sam but not explicitly. He tried and failed to keep his eyes away from Bucky who was just staring at him, unblinking.

“I see. And what happens when you’re ‘set off’?”

“Why do you need to know that?” Bucky snarls.

“What’s the relevance of these questions?” Natasha added darkly at the same time.

“I… I… fuck, I can’t,” Steve tried to fight this one, he was panicking now but it was impossible. “Panic attacks and, and, sometimes I disappear, or work out until I hurt myself and. And. I thought about killing myself.” It was out and the air was sucked out of the cube, or that’s what he felt like. Although, at some point, it was likely all of his team had had some kind of similar thought, it was devastating to hear, he knew.

“How would you do it?”

“Fucking stop this,” Bucky moved, towering over Rothman in an instant and the others stood up.

“Dude, you better get some better fucking questions.” Clint grit out and Steve was so happy to see him and vaguely wondered where Wanda was but his brain was working against him. His breath was too erratic and he was sweating.

“I thought about, about, a suicide mission, go down taking out as many as I could. Or… or a train.” He suddenly wished the straps were on the chair because he felt so ungrounded and dizzy he needed something to hold him down.

Bucky’s head snapped to him and he looked appalled. Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

“Indeed,” Rothman was pretending to ignore Bucky’s looming. “And what’s the significance –”

“Please don’t ask me that.” Steve begged, lowering his head and breathing deep through his nose but he was light-headed.

“Do you think you deserve to live?” Rothman was relentless.

“Only if I help people. And I can’t even seem to do that without hurting people so probably not.” He choked out and stood and staggered back from the chair, swaying dangerously.

Things were starting to sound muffled, he couldn’t hear what Bucky said as he grabbed a fistful of Rothman’s jacket and dragged him up but he could gather it was some kind of threat. He watched as Clint and Sam dragged Bucky back, he saw the conflict in their own eyes as they did it. Steve was spiralling but somehow Rothman’s voice cut through like crystal.

“Mr Rogers, when Mr Barnes fell off of the train that led to his capture by Hydra – have you ever wished it was the other way around?”

“Yes.” Steve bared his teeth as he grit them so hard it hurt but it was no use. “It should have been me. I wish it was me.” He let out a choked yell through grit teeth and watched through full eyes as Bucky had to be dragged from the room, kicking and shouting but Steve couldn’t hear it. A dull static was clouding his hearing and he sank slowly down, resting on his knees, one hand digging into his other arm, trying to stay conscious.

He pulled his eyes up and Natasha was the only one left. She was watching him with a concerned expression but soft eyes. She sunk down as well and sat as close to him as she could.

“It’s okay.” And he could tell she had mouthed it. “Breathe.” Her face was stern, she wasn’t saying it in a comforting absent kind of way – it was an instruction. He deliberately breathed in and out, counting and keeping it regular until his head began to steady and the dull hum of the room returned. Nat let him come back to himself patiently.

“He’s not gonna’ forgive me for that.” Steve mumbled and Natasha’s mouth twitched unhappily.

“Barnes would forgive you for anything, especially when there’s nothing to forgive.” She snapped and something in her voice betrayed her, something unsettled and stressed. She seemed to see the thought cross Steve’s face and rolled her eyes. “Sue me, I don’t like seeing my friend in a box like a kid’s science experiment. He’ll be more be more careful from now on. Barnes was ready to kill him.”

“I wasn’t far behind him.” Steve added, grim and unapologetic. Natasha just nodded.

\-------------

“Steve – you awake?”

Steve blinks awake and it’s dark in the box. He’s already bristled from the embarrassment that was the ‘shower’ earlier. He calms when he sees it’s Bucky but the events from earlier are still fresh and he’s on edge. Bucky could be here to confront him about any number of things. He gets up and stays very still for a long moment.

“Before you say anything –”

“No. None of that shit, please, Steve.” Bucky sounds angry but his face is clear.

Steve shuts his mouth with a snap. His friend is so quiet and it’s so charged but Steve is too nervous to try and speak again first. Bucky is taking his time, picking his words like they’re loaded and maybe they are. Steve should prepare for a wound.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Steve stares at him and then lets out an incredulous laugh which falls flat. He’s suddenly kind of angry too.

“Do you want to even begin to explain to me how much you haven’t told me?” He growls and Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise.

“That’s not the fucking same,” He starts furiously but Steve can’t help himself at all today apparently. There were people watching this conversation and there was an impenetrable wall of glass between them and Bucky wanted to go back in the ice and everything that could be wrong – was.

“When exactly was I supposed to have told you? When you were in the ice?” He bites out callously and his heart sinks a little because he wasn’t supposed to say that. Bucky’s face contorts subtly a few times as he can’t decide how to feel about that.

“So, it’s my fault?” Maybe it was meant to sound snide but it comes out like he’s actually asking, fear in there and Steve feels sick.

“No! Buck, that’s not what I mean,”

“Maybe not. But I’m never gonna’ know anything unless Vision makes you say it, am I?” Bucky pushes and there’s a hidden challenge in there. “Fuck, I thought you were the brave one, Steve, I was counting on it!” He hissed and Steve couldn’t keep up.

“You know what, you’re right, when I get out of here we’ll talk about everything,” Steve is breathing harshly. “We’ll just have to wait another seventy years until you’re defrosted again – I’m sure I’ll have everything figured out by then.”

“Fucking stop that!” Bucky bellowed. “You’re supposed to talk. It doesn’t have to be me but it has to be to someone, fuck, Steve, a train?” His voice cracked and Steve scrubbed his hands over his face, horrified.

“I can’t. Please, I can’t.”

“This isn’t how it works. I’m the fucked up one, understand?”

“That’s never been true, Buck.” Steve mumbled and Bucky cursed in a language Steve couldn’t place.

“It was supposed to be my job to keep you safe.” He muttered distantly, maybe accidentally. It was too much and raw and too contrived for Steve to stomach.

“We aren’t doing this here. They’ve put this conversation in our mouths and then sat back so they can record it. I won’t.” Steve jut out his chin and Bucky raked his hands through his hair and looked ready to pull it out but seemed to agree. He shifted his weight a little before leaving without a word. Steve wanted to burn the whole building to the ground.

\-------------

“What in the hell?” A loud familiar voice brought Steve to consciousness next. He blinked against the angry lights. “Is this a joke? You call this a safe trial centre?”

Steve jolted up and off the small bed to approach the glass and confirm who it was.

“Morning, Cap.” Tony smiled uncomfortably and Steve gaped at him. There was a difficult silence and Tony being Tony caved first. “Why in God’s name is that giant man in a fish tank would someone care to explain?” He demanded.

Steve tried to catch up. Tony was here and it sounded like he knew they’d brought him here but didn’t know the exact conditions. Was he the one behind this? Or had he found out some other way? Was he the one who’d hacked T’Challa’s private security?

“Tony?” He managed and Tony stopped mid-rant and faced him.

“I’m getting you out of here, Rogers. You’re only scooby-doo villain level bad not Hannibal Lecture don’t touch the glass bad.” Tony snarked, eyes scanning the room, the cameras, the control panel, Steve could almost see him picking it apart in his mind and it filled him with hope.

“Did you know about all of this?” He asks and his voice is a bit raspy, Tony doesn’t miss it but doesn’t comment on it either. His eyes darken.

“I knew they were trying to get Captain America in for questioning but wasn’t under the impression they were conducting the equivalent of a vinegar volcano in the Bat Cave,” He shouted at the ceiling and Steve’s brain was sparking.

“Tony, I don’t –”

“I know, don’t worry. They said they would ask about the serum, try to recreate it and you guys could get some A Report card that lets you off the hook. I figured you’d been ostracised for long enough so I sent some emails.” He is avoiding looking at Steve for too long. “I came down here because they have terrible cyber security and the man on the phone sassed me when I asked for the location so it was mainly to prove a point – Stark 1 – bad guys 0,” He is calling at the ceiling again and Steve had missed him.

“But also, they should have finished with you by now. They wanted to keep you in custody and release the others, apart from maybe,” He cuts himself off and sucks in a breath. “When I hadn’t heard anything I took a roadtrip or that’s what I’m doing if Pepper asks. And here you are having your civil liberties conveniently eaten by the dog as they jerk off to a Bill Nye podcast.”

“Tony. About what happened. I know we aren’t going to go back to what we were, maybe ever,” Steve forced through, he had an opportunity to try and start building a bridge.

“We didn’t break up, Cap.”

“I’m sorry about how it happened.” It was all he could say. They both knew Steve wasn’t sorry about helping Bucky. But it was messy and he should have told Tony about his parents. “They said if I do this, the others go free. Some checking in which they’ll hate but. But they can go home.”

“How long were you going to be their Stuart Little, though? They’ll get their freedom but so will you, jackass. You have a lifetime of cheeseburger, mariachi band, haiku writing grovelling for forgiveness to do. Leave it with me.” He talks so quickly it’s difficult to catch the sentiment if you’re unused to it. He starts to leave.

“About Bucky. I know you can’t… He’s innocent. He was a prisoner. Please, just, don’t punish him anymore. You don’t have to be his friend or see him ever just, he deserves his freedom. Please just think about it.” Steve pleads earnestly.

“I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.” Tony says non-committally but it’s enough.

“Tony,” Steve stops him quickly and he turns a little. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s boring in New York without you around to make fun of.” He says quietly, nodding awkwardly and leaving quickly.

\-------------

The next time Steve sees Rothman he’s _rattled._ He drops his tablet twice and the second time when he leans over to pick it up his glasses fall from his nose and he accidentally steps on them. He curses and Steve watches intently. There are white coats streaming in, frazzled and moving quickly, some are packing things up and others are copying files and confirming details as they go. Steve can hear snippets of conversation about higher management and political manipulation and he’s amazed at how quickly Tony Stark can get something done.

However, in the back of his mind he’s on alert. Call him crazy but it was like his serum was on lookout for him, aware that it was being studied and could be stolen. He was on constant defensive. He didn’t trust the glass – this could be a trick. Maybe Tony hadn’t been real. He fell for it the first time. Maybe this was another trial and the glass was changing again to show him things to stimulate a carefully calculated response that Rothman would note down as he sipped at his cold coffee, totally unconcerned.

He didn’t want to hope too strongly in case this proved to be smoke and mirrors.

“We need to get started right away and it will have to be a combination trial. We still need some results for sections 4, 9 and 11.” Rothman said as his disciples scribbled it down like gospel. “Mr Rogers, please tell us how much pain you experience.” He locked eyes with Steve and there was a wild and animalistic glint in his eye that made it clear how he’d got to his position.

The glass’ shine glitched and shifted, suddenly looking just like the stone of the other three walls and Steve wondered if all the walls were made of this glass. Did it have vibranium in it – how else was it so strong?

“Your brain will create places or people that make things easier to digest and less traumatic for you when the toxin allows us to manipulate your brain activity.” Rothman’s voice came from behind him. The bullet still lodged in him suddenly burned. Pulses of searing pain getting more and more forceful and spreading through his body until it was scorching his fingers and eyes and feet.

“What more do you need to manipulate – didn’t you already go round the block a few times?” Steve bit out, thinking Bucky would be proud of his sass.

“Scenario 1, trigger words being Howling Commandoes, trust, danger.”

The world dissolved and Steve’s back was against the wreckage of a war transport vehicle. He was in his old uniform. And by old he meant his original. He looked to his left and Bucky and Dum Dum were there, reloading and discussing the terrain in hushed quick voices. To his right was Gabe and Monty, looking around the edge of the car and reporting the enemy lines back to them.

“Steve,” Bucky smacked his chest, annoyed. “Which way do you want to go?” Steve turned back to him and his friend was frowning at him, rifle slung over his back, one of Dum Dum’s guns in his hands as he waited impatiently for orders.

“Buck, you’re alive. You’re okay.” Steve can’t help it, he reaches out, one hand on Bucky’s arm the other on his shoulder, sliding up his neck, a thumb on his jaw. Bucky looks alarmed.

“Yeah, Stevie, you found me, remember?” He says hurriedly like he wants to be annoyed but can’t quite dismiss this.

“I should never have let you out of my sight.” He gulps, guilt and emotion thick in his throat for some reason. He was gushing, why was he gushing? Steve had never had the guts to say something like this to Bucky. He vaguely recognised that this wasn’t real but he could smell gunpowder and petrol and the human rot of a warzone. Bucky hadn’t bat his hands away and his jaw had stubble on it that felt real. The sounds of guns and yelling and alarms was loud and constant and real.

“What are you talking about, Stevie?” Bucky deems this more important than rounding the car to strike the enemy line.

The sight fades and Steve’s hands are suddenly holding nothing. The scene changes and his head spins because he’s standing but he didn’t move and his brain is telling him this is real.

He hears ‘respiratory’, ‘past’ and ‘despair’ and suddenly he’s shuddering in a breath. He’s flat on his back and when he moves a mattress makes a noise. He knows a hospital when he smells one, disinfectant clean but this was so distinct. The sound of shoes squeaking on the floor, a radio that was just off frequency making the voice warbled, the unmistakable sound of cheap fluorescent bulbs flickering in complaint.

It was so nostalgic Steve’s eyes were watering before they fully adjusted and he was in the hospital. His Mother materialised in front of him, tired eyes and golden hair as she looked him over sternly. He reached out to her and jolted at the sight of his hand.

His bony fingers. His tiny arms. Gangly but scrawny. The old familiar rattle in his chest with every breath. The way his bones had a dull ache all the time that he never mentioned. He’d forgotten he used to be colour blind. It didn’t bother him as much as he’d expected.

“Mom?”

“Steven Grant Rogers, how many times do I have to tell you to stop fighting? You think my heart can handle it, huh?” She demanded her accent thick and cross. Steve’s eyes filled with tears.

“I’m real sorry. I’m so sorry, sorry for making you worry.” He chokes out, his breath making crying risky. Sarah Rogers frowned, moving to rest a hand on his forehead and then his cheeks and tears spilled over at the contact. He grabbed one of her hands and held it there. This close he could smell her light perfume, light fruity fragrance was like a punch in the throat.

“Hey, sweetie, what is it? These bullies never make you cry,” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead and he gasps in a breath, all but sobbing because it’s his Mother. She’s here and he got so little time with her and she was so precious and was dealt such a terrible hand. His Father, their living situation, a son like him. “Where was Bucky?” She asked, swiping away tears and sitting on the bed, pulling him into her arms and letting him cry harder.

“I love you so much.” He grits out, the thought of her arms disappearing confusing but for some reason in the back of his brain it feels like she’s going somewhere.

“You’re scaring me, sweetheart, what is it?” He can’t answer so she just shushes him, rocking him gently as she combs her hand through his hair and occasionally wipes away his tears. Steve’s whole chest just _ached_ and not because he couldn’t breathe though that didn’t help. It was so painful and he didn’t know what but he wanted to cling to his Mother and stay like this. “I’m not going anywhere. You got a lot of people who love you and care about you, you’re gonna’ be just fine.” She muttered soothingly and Steve just listened to the sound of her voice.

“You better calm down, Mister, Bucky’ll have a fit if he comes in here and you’re crying. Can’t have him fighting, too, can we?” She says gently and the words sting ever open wound Steve forgot he had.

“I don’t want Bucky to fight.” He manages, sniffling and his Mother chuckles kindly.

“Then don’t force his hand, sweetheart. He only fights the idiots who you try and beat up. Valiant reason or not, think of your Mother some time, hey? What’ll I do to hear my Stevie’s got his head knocked off because someone tried to push around the little guy, huh?” It was an old lecture, one he’d heard a million times before but he’d happily listen to it forever. However, her words held some weight Steve felt deep in his gut.

She’s right. Since the beginning it was him throwing punches first and thinking later and Bucky pulled behind him to finish the mess and drag Steve back home and patch him up as best he could before Steve’s Mom got back and lectured them both. Except on the odd occasions Steve really went hell for leather and got himself landed in hospital. Steve could remember all the times on the way back from school watching Bucky as he laughed, telling a joke whilst he ate an apple and didn’t notice Steve staring at his black eye.

“It’s my fault if Bucky gets hurt.” He mumbles quietly and his Mother tuts at him.

“Now, that’s not the truth, is it? Bucky’s a smart boy who’s just as much a troublemaker as you and I believe his heart’s almost as big as yours. He’s your friend and he’s old enough to make his own choices just like you – stupid or not.” She pressed a kiss into his hair and hummed. “Don’t go telling him this but I’m proud of him for standing up for himself, you’re both good boys. You do right by each other, understand?”

He nodded in her arms. Heart full and wavering in the way only family could make you feel.

And then he was cold and the arms were gone and he wanted to weep but his body was stronger again and it was harder to give in to feeling weak like this. Everything had been simpler when he was a scrawny boy from Brooklyn as painful as it often was. The image changed but his brain was addled and he couldn’t even feel the pain the bullet was inflicting – he didn’t remember the bullet or the room or the glass or Rothman.

_Truth. Fear. Confession._

He was back in T’Challa’s secret compound. Bucky was there. He didn’t have the metal arm on. He looked soft and calm, in pyjamas like he’d just had a shower. Barefoot and tired. The least battle ready Steve had seen him in the longest he could remember.

“Just a few more hours.” Bucky said plainly and Steve cocked his head, confused. “Until I go back in the ice.” And he sighed. Like he was relieved. Steve’s spine tensed.

“What?”

“It’s only for a few years until they figure out a way to recalibrate me –”

“A few years?” Steve sounded horrified to his own ears. Why was Bucky being so blasé about this?

“Yeah, Steve.” He said like Steve was being a child.

“You can’t be gone for a few years, that’s too long, Buck.”

Bucky looked lightly confused and it was all too lukewarm for Steve’s liking. They weren’t talking about a nap here this was huge life changing stuff and Bucky was shrugging it off.

“This is my choice, Steve. Your secret doesn’t change that.”

“My what? What are you talking about, secret?” Steve echoes, frozen in place. Bucky frowns, irritated.

“When are you gonna’ be man enough to admit it? Just going to die never saying anything?” He scoffs and it’s rare for Bucky to be this cruel unless Steve really fucked up.

“I don’t know what,” He tries but he can’t continue. The edges of the room are fuzzy in the corners and his eyes sting and struggle to focus.

“Yes you do!” Bucky spit out and stalked over to Steve, actually squaring up. “How do you feel about me?” All warmth drains out of Steve.

“What?”

“Answer me!” Bucky shoves him harshly and Steve falters, staggering back , caught off guard.

“You’re, Buck, you’re my friend.” His mind is racing and Bucky is glowering at him. He’s not buying it.

“Quit being a fucking coward.” He growls, quiet and dangerous. Steve can’t move or look away his brain is like mush. “Be honest for fucking once. How do you feel about me?”

Bucky seems to glitch and he’s so close to Steve, staring him down, cool blue eyes demanding. And in this haze Steve can’t remember why he spared the effort to lie. What was the point? Bucky was so inviting, even like this, angry and relentless. A deep gut reaction he’d trained himself to ignore threw itself up, his heart hammering but it felt distant and somewhat pleasant in this dizzy, dream-like state.

This was Bucky. Steve’s best friend. The person he’d looked up to since he was a kid. The first person Steve had learned how to want and the feeling had never gone away. Why was he fighting so hard? It was exhausting. Bucky’s here and he’s safe and he’s everything Steve has or wants.

“I’m in love with you.”

It’s not elegant or well put or particularly unique but it’s honest.

There’s a moment of beautiful nothing.

And then Bucky’s face screws up. He slowly and deliberately brings his hand up, sliding it up Steve’s chest and he must be able to feel Steve’s heart hammering so fucking loud. He grabs a fistful of Steve’s shirt, hauls him off of his feet and hurls him against the opposite wall, winding him.

“You piece of shit. All this time lying and pretending? And what? Now I’m supposed to say thank you and live in your sick fucking fantasy?” He sounds disgusted.

Steve can’t respond, he stares at his friend and takes the punch across the face. His heart blisters and it’s so present, it’s hard to believe it’s been sat there all this time as it begs to be cut out.

“You let me _die_. And then you left me to wish I was dead for _decades_. It was all your fault!” Bucky has a knife from somewhere and he plunges it into Steve’s chest. His heart actually feels a little relieved. “It should have been you. I wish you’d died and stayed fucking dead. It should have been you.” He pushed the knife in further, something crunching and Steve couldn’t suck in air anymore. Bucky twisted the hilt until it snapped off. And then he walked away.

And Steve curled over and let himself die.

When the knife faded along with the hallway and Bucky’s retreating figure and the room returned Steve couldn’t react. The agony of the bullet returned too fast and he was paralysed in pain, blood vessels bursting in his eyes and a scream trapped in his throat. He can see something happening behind the glass. There’s so much movement it’s like someone hit fast-forward. There’s bodies appearing and disappearing and that might be Bucky, kicking and flailing but Steve’s eyes shift in and out of focus and he’s gone.

\-----------

He screams himself into consciousness and the pain in his side is indefinable. He starts thrashing furiously, clawing at his side, drawing blood as he screams.

“Hold him down!” A voice orders and pairs of hands grab each of his limbs and try and hold him. He throws them off just in a pure pain filled panic. “Everyone! Hold him the fuck down!”

There’s a jolt and the ground all shifts and a fresh wave of pain bursts through him and Steve screams so loud he must run out of them soon. He can’t think straight. The pain is eating him alive. He tries to adjust, just opening his eyes is agony.

“Be fucking careful!” It’s Natasha, she’s shouting to someone and they’re in the jet. Steve can’t understand why that’s important but it feels important in some recess of Steve’s brain. He doesn’t recognise the people holding him down.

Someone presses down on where the bullet is and Steve’s back arches up against his will and he howls in pain, shuddering back down and his screams are at least morphing into yells behind grit teeth as he tries to come back to his senses.

“Steve? Stevie?” Steve’s eyes spot Bucky whose eyes are red and wide and horrified. He can’t speak, another flash of white-blinding pain makes him release another gut-wrenching scream and Bucky is pulling at his hair so hard it must hurt.

“He can’t keep this up, he’s going into arrest,” Someone shouts and Steve can just see Bucky, out of reach, stricken.

Something cold touches the skin where the bullet entered his side and Steve bellows, unable to control it, his head raising and slamming into the ground, once twice, the third time, hands are under it and hold him still. It’s Bucky, face furious and terrified, eyes full and overflowing but he’s ignoring it.

“Breathe, Stevie, breathe.” His voice is so strangled.

“We have to get it out now.” Someone says to his right, Steve doesn’t try and look.

“It’s too risky, we need to wait –” Someone else further away says.

“We take it out now or he dies!” The other voice yells back.

That’s when some kind of needle enters his side and the mangled, desperate cry Steve releases makes Bucky screw up his face in pain, wheezing a sob.

“Fuck, please, Stevie, it’s okay,” Bucky is gritting his teeth and holding a low moan as his eyes flicker from Steve’s to whatever the other people are doing that is making Steve’s body abandon ship. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, you’re okay, I’m, please, I’ve got you, this is okay,” Bucky is babbling.

Another scream that ends quieter in a more human like yell and a couple of sobs and Bucky is gasping in air and shoving it back out. His eyes are wild and his hands are desperately holding Steve’s head in place.

“Oh god, Steve, just stay, okay, you said, do you remember, you said, fuck, Steve, you said you loved me, do you remember that, pal? You gotta’ remember that, gotta’ stay, please.” Bucky begs, his face blotchy and tear-stained.

Another jolt. Another white slice of pain everywhere. Another guttural yell that has Bucky crying out with him, wincing hard.

“I’m with you, alright and you said you fucking loved me and you didn’t even say it to real me, don’t you fucking dare, you’re saying it to real me and I swear to God I won’t beat you up, please, Steve, you said, you said,”

Steve can’t focus on his words anymore. His adrenaline is spent and his body’s defensive resources are burning out. He blacks out.

\-------------

“He’s waking up.” Shuri’s voice says.

He’s back at the compound. He’s alive.

“Shuri?” His voice is wrecked and his throat protests its use.

“Don’t talk to much – you’re voice had a lot of use.” She says quietly and he opens his eyes to his room at the compound.

He sits up and she frowns at him disapprovingly but doesn’t attempt to stop him, predicting this.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.” She hands him a cup of water and some pills.

“Three days? What, what even happened? The room with the glass,” He mumbles, confused. Despite having supposedly been out for three days, he was exhausted.

“Yes, I heard about that hell hole and my brother assures me that Mr Stark tore it down.” Shuri says, a dark smile on her face and a hard glint in her eye.

“It’s gone?”

She nods. This feels too easy.

“Where are the others?” He asks warily.

“I believe the common space. Except Barnes, he’ll be prepping to go back into cryo around now.”

The words make a high-pitched hum start to go off in Steve’s ears as he struggles to understand.

“Back into cryo?” He repeats without feeling. There’s no way. There’s no way Bucky would be going into cryo without talking to Steve after everything that happened.

“Yes, when he got back he insisted we start the re-calibration at once and other than some headaches and short-term amnesia, he doesn’t feel much change and wants to go back under.” She explains, half-watching him, half checking things off on her phone. “It’s only for a few months to let the recalibration sit and see how he feels after an adjustment period.” She sounds unconvinced and Steve feels hollow.

“He can’t, he can’t do that.” He says, numb and Shuri raises her eyebrows.

“He’s not under yet.” She gestures meaningfully at the door.

Steve takes three long seconds to come to his senses before launching himself out of the door.

This can’t be real. It’s going to be another trial but Steve can’t help falling into a sprint to the medical bay. It’s going to be another hallucination that tests his emotional response to his worst fear because Steve is unlucky enough that he would have to live that twice. He’s scared though. He can’t wait months, he has some kind of momentum now, forced to face everything to its worst possible outcome took away some of the fear as he knew the worst. Bucky couldn’t go back under. He needed to let the calibration take effect and trust that he could do well and there wasn’t some magical fix all – he would have bad days and awful days but he could still have control over his own actions.

When he reaches the medical bay he’s out of breath, he must still be recovering from whatever they did to pull the bullet out of him. He probably should have asked Shuri about that but he could do that later. He wrenched the door open and Bucky was sat on the edge of a bed, the cryotube open ominously in the centre of the room.

“You can’t go back under!” He bursts out and the doctor in the room promptly left. Bucky looked shocked.

“Steve, you, you’re bleeding,” He jumped off the bed and strode over to his friend. Steve looked down and, ah, yes, he was in fact bleeding from his healing surgery wound.

“That’s not important, listen,”

“Steve,” Bucky started with a trademark frown.

“Please don’t go back under.” He said in a gust and Bucky shifted in discomfort. “I know it’s your choice and I don’t want to take away your choices but I believe you can stay in control and changes take time and you’ll only properly readjust to the world if you’re living in it.” He’s so out of breath and he registers it’s only half from running.

“Steve, I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you want to hear,”

“You’re allowed to have the worst days but you won’t hurt anyone, you need to learn to trust yourself and you can’t do that in ice. After everything, you’re really going to go back under?” He asks, incredulous, hoping any of this is getting through to his friend.

“Everything that happened just proved I wasn’t ready. I was expecting a normal mission and instead I got to watch as you were pulled apart in a new way every day. And I know Stark shut the place down but I don’t trust myself not to go after every son of a bitch wearing a white coat and kill them all.” He snapped.

Steve gulped hard. Time to really bite the bullet.

“And fake you? And the hallway? And what you said on the jet?” He managed, heart thrumming, warning him to calm the fuck down after the ordeal he’d been through and he dismissed it.

“Fake me was horrible to watch, watching as younger me was there and then was gone and you had to deal with that. But that’s just another reason I don’t trust myself.”

“You don’t remember.” Steve breathed in realisation. He was absolutely split between heartbreak and sheer utter relief. Bucky instantly sharpened.

“What? What else happened? The last thing I remember is being kept away from you when Stark came to visit the compound and that was five days ago.” His eyes were narrowed, mission ready and Steve was wrong-footed now. This was not what he had expected to be confronted with.

He thought the real hard bit had already been done but Bucky had forgotten the whole awful thing. The confession and his subsequent reaction. Or his fake reaction. In the fresh light and clean air of the medical bay it seemed beyond justification that Bucky would ever attack him. But it could ruin everything. Suddenly, he was back with the same dilemma he’d always had but he was being asked. Bucky was asking. Could he really lie now, after all of this shit?

“You, they, uh, one of the trials was me telling you something and you reacted.. badly.” He started falteringly, unsure. Bucky furrowed his brow.

“That’s not very helpful, Steve. What did you tell me?”

“You, Buck, you asked me how I felt about you.” Steve said boldly and Bucky suddenly went rigid.

It wasn’t the flash of a memory returning but it was the realisation that something heavy was being carried here.

“I did?” He said quietly and this was Bucky Barnes at his most evasive. Steve nodded, heart embarrassingly loud, hands sweaty. He gulped as discreetly as he could, trying to clear his dry throat. “And what did you say?” Bucky said at last, lifting his chin as if preparing for a blow.

Steve took him in and for a second let himself feel the full force of everything he felt for Bucky. The dam he’d put up when he was young and reinforced over the years as it grew and grew, he let it fall. It was everything, the way he held himself, the way he fought, the way he didn’t want to, the way he cared so much, his eyes and his hands and his laugh and yell and every hair ruffle and black eye and shared scar, visible or not.

“I’m in love with you.”

Bucky blinked, something shifting in his face that Steve couldn’t analyse.

“I loved you since before Coney Island, Buck. I loved you since you pulled me out of a damn locker and told my Mom I fell off a trampoline. I loved you when you fell and when I fell too. God, Buck, I loved you so much, I dropped my shield and I tore the world apart chasing you and I left everything to try and just stay with you.”

Bucky took a half-step back and Steve’s heart panged but he carried on, he’d opened the floodgate now and he might never get another chance to say these things to Bucky.

“I love you so much if you go back in that ice and stay there, I’d visit you until the day I died but I love you so much I’m being selfish and asking you to please stay.” He gasped in air. “You’ve no idea how long I wanted to say it. God, you’re the best thing about this entire life, do you understand that, at all? I died and woke up and you were somehow still here. Just impossible.”

“You love me.” Bucky said, flat, not a question but there was something like doubt in there.

“I’m sorry, I know this ruins things. I know I shouldn’t say anything like this, I don’t want to guilt you into staying or into saying anything back, I know this is one-sided, I just.” His eyes were filling up much to his frustration and Bucky looked pained.

“Steve.”

“Whatever you do, I, just understand that I’m entirely serious. I am yours to keep. Always.” He gulps hard and breathes out shakily.

“Steve Rogers, I fucking hate you.” Bucky breathes and his eyes look full and his face is screwed up.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just, on the jet you asked, you asked me to say it –”

“So say it.” Bucky growls and Steve’s heart skips. He watches his friend and Bucky is waiting, he even looks nervous and Steve can’t interpret it but a reckless hope blooms in his chest.

“I love you. I’m gone for you, Buck, always have been.” He says, words that have haunted him for decades.

Bucky steps forward slow, keeping his hand down, just walking dangerously close to Steve. Their breath is mixing and Steve’s going to go into cardiac arrest again at this point. All he’d have to do is tilt his head a fraction and move forward and he could kiss Bucky. The thought made his brain do that reset thing it did whenever he let himself think about kissing Bucky. But he knew his friend, Bucky would do anything to try and keep Steve safe and happy and this couldn’t be that. He couldn’t guilt his friend into doing this. This couldn’t be some favour or thank you or sorry. It just couldn’t.

“Bucky, you don’t have to –”

Bucky pushed forwards and kissed him, dazzling and long and deep, his hand coming up and clutching at Steve’s jaw. It took several seconds for Steve’s body to catch up, his hands finally lifting, pulling Bucky in at the waist and by some miracle they were kissing. Bucky kissed like he had a point to prove, like he was running out of time and like this was the last kiss he’d ever had and the thought scared the shit out of Steve. Bucky pulled back a little, gasping into Steve’s mouth.

“You’re mine, Stevie.” He said breathily and Steve’s heart stopped again. “I’m yours and you’re mine.” He pushed back and kissed Steve again, more fervently this time, deepening it. They were moving and walking back until Bucky’s back collided with the wall and he flipped them around, Steve pressed back against the wall. Bucky leaned into him and Steve relished the pressure, feeling so happy and elated he could black out again. Bucky pulled away a little again.

“I love you, I love you,” He said and kissed him desperately before pulling away again. “Jesus, I love you so fucking much, please stay with me.”

Steve gave as good as he got, raking a hand through Bucky’s hair and enjoying the groan it earnt him.

“I’ll stay if you stay.” He bargained through kisses and Bucky half-nodded as much as he could.

“Uh huh. I’m staying, keep going.” He begged, breathless and Steve was exceptional at following orders.

\-------------

“I always knew it.” Sam crowed and Natasha scoffed and kicked him from her place on the sofa.

They were curled up in the common space. Steve had one arm around Bucky, drifting in and out of sleep as his body healed, his other hand was being held by Wanda who was out like a light. He'd found out she'd spent most of the time he'd been in the trials in a small metal room, tearing her hair out and was relieved to have Steve and Vision free now.

T'Challa had filled them in and it turned out Tony had been busy. After discovering they'd essentially been torturing Steve in the U.S Government's basement he'd gone full John Wick (his words not T'Challa's). He'd spent who knows how much on accessing their files and threatened to make the videos of Steve's trials public and show them torturing Captain America to the world. No surprise that they'd pretty much crumbled from the inside, all plans to recreate the serum abandoned as far as they could tell as they'd had very little luck extracting it from Steve anyway. Steve was hugely relieved that the videos weren't going to be made public though. He was going to visit New York next week and try and start patching things up with Tony.

Natasha, Sam, T’Challa and Clint were gathered around chatting in low voices. They had their freedom but though it was to lay low a little while, not piss the government off for at least a week.

“Steve didn’t even know it,” Clint scoffed.

“He knew, he just never let himself think about it too hard.” Natasha said knowingly.

“Sounds like you speak from experience.” Clint said mockingly, leaning closer to her and her leg whipped out and clipped him over the back of the head. “Ow!” Clint swatted her away but laughed heartily.

“Well, Barnes, it only took watching your boy play over multiple scenarios where he tells you he loves you and you flip the fuck out before you got your act together.” Clint said as though he was congratulating him.

“Hey,” Bucky started, indignant. “Those me’s weren’t me. That was Steve’s paranoid imagination.” He said sulkily and Steve couldn’t help the light smirk, even with his eyes closed.

“I know you’re awake, punk. He’s just smug because he got to say it before me.” Bucky snuggled closer to Steve.

“I mean, you both played the long game.” Clint snickered and Natasha laughed with him.

“I am very happy for you. You deserve each other.” T’Challa said earnestly and Bucky was glowing.

Steve leaned over and sleepily kissed him, not fully registering they had an audience as they all suddenly became fascinated with what film to watch. He rested his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yours to keep.” He mumbled so quietly only Bucky caught it.

“Damn right.” Bucky muttered. “Yours to keep, Stevie.”  

**Author's Note:**

> And there you have it. I hope you liked it, the culmination of some sleepless nights and stress about graduating.  
> Be kind I am out of practice.  
> Have a lovely day/night - b x


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